關於英語朗誦詩歌篇壹
Now I Understand
by Linda Gregg
Something was pouring out. Filling the field
and making it vacant. A wind blowing them
sideways as they moved forward. The crying
as before. Suddenly I understood why they left
the empty bowls on the table， in the empty hut
overlooking the sea. And knew the meaning
of the heron breaking branches， spreading
his wings in order to rise up out of the dark
woods into the night sky. I understood about
the lovers and the river in January.
Heard the crying out as a battlement，
of greatness， and then the dying began.
The height of passion. Saw the breaking
of the moon and the shattering of the sun.
Believed in the miracle because of the half heard
and the other half seen. How they ranged
and how they fed. Let loose their cries.
One could call it the agony in the garden，
or the paradise， depending on whether
the joy was at the beginning， or after.
關於英語朗誦詩歌篇二
My Lifes Calling
by Deborah Digges
My life's calling， setting fires.
Here in a hearth so huge
I can stand inside and shove
the wood around with my
bare hands while church bells
deal the hours down through
the chimney. No more
woodcutter， creel for the fire
or architect， the five staves
pitched like rifles over stone.
But to be mistro-elemental.
The flute of clay playing
my breath that riles the flames，
the fire risen to such dreaming
sung once from landlords' attics.
Sung once the broken lyres，
seasoned and green.
Even the few things I might save，
my mother's letters，
locks of my children's hair
here handed over like the keys
to a foreclosure， my robes
remanded， and furniture
dragged out into the yard，
my bedsheets hoisted up the pine，
whereby the house sets sail.
And I am standing on a cliff
above the sea， a paper light，
a lantern. No longer mine
to count the wrecks.
Who rode the ships in ringing，
marrying rock the waters
storm to break the door，
looked through the fire， beheld
a clearing there. This is what
you are. What you've e to.
關於英語朗誦詩歌篇三
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
by John Keats
Ah， what can ail thee， wretched wight，
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is withered from the lake，
And no birds sing.
Ah， what can ail thee， wretched wight，
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full，
And the harvest's done.
I see a lilly on thy brow，
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful， a faery's child;
Her hair was long， her foot was light，
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed，
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean， and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head，
And bracelets too， and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love，
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet，
And honey wild， and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said，
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot，
And there she gazed and sighed deep，
And there I shut her wild sad eyes——
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss，
And there I dreamed， ah woe betide，
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings， and princes too，
Pale warriors， death-pale were they all;
Who cried——"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide，
And I awoke， and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering，
Though the sedge is withered from the lake，And no birds sing.
關於英語朗誦詩歌篇四
My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun
by William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white， why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires， black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked， red and white，
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak， yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet， by heaven， I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false pare.