長篇經(jīng)典英文詩歌朗誦 適合朗誦的英文詩歌

1、長篇經(jīng)典英文詩歌朗誦 適合朗誦的英文詩歌 文學(xué)是一種語言藝術(shù),詩歌又歷來被視作文學(xué)的最高形式。學(xué)習(xí)英語詩歌不但有助于開闊視野,陶冶性情,而且對(duì)于英語學(xué)習(xí)有很大關(guān)心。整理了長篇經(jīng)典英文詩歌，歡迎閱讀! 長篇經(jīng)典英文詩歌篇二 the present writer by coner ocallaghan answers questions vaguely， as if from distance， cares less for the dribs and drabs of his libido; gets more droll， lachrymose， implicit with age; has

2、backed from the room， the turntable moving and a refill pad lying open at the page with swansong and glockenspiel written on it; makes collect calls from payphones， lost for words; has been known to sleep in the rear seat on the hard shoulder， the hazards ticking; is given to sudden floods of hope;

3、still dreams of swimming pools， in sepia; can take or leave a life in shadow; will whoop out of the blue and surface on the landing， fork and spoon in hand， adrift of what the done thing was; doodles butterflies on the envelopes of unread letters; travels happiest towards daylight and fancies pigeon

4、s; gets a kick inhabiting the third person， as if talking across himself or forever clapping his own exits from the wings. 長篇經(jīng)典英文詩歌篇三 the potato by joseph stroud three days into the journey i lost the inca trail and scrambled around the andes in a growing panic when on a hillside below snowline i me

5、t a farmer who pointed the way machu picchu all， he said. he knew where i wanted to go. from my pack i pulled out an orange. it seemed to catch fire in that high blue andean sky. i gave it to him. he had been digging in a garden， turning up clumps of earth， some odd， misshapen nuggets， some potatoes

6、. he handed me one， a potato the size of the orange looking as if it had been in the ground a hundred years， a potato i carried with me until at last i stood gazing down on the urubamba valley， peaks rising out of the jungle into clouds， and there among the mists was the temple of the sun and the lo

7、st city of the incas. looking back now， all these years later， what i remember most， what matters to me most， was that farmer， alone on his hillside， who gave me a potato， a potato with its peasant face， its lumps and lunar craters， a potato that fit perfectly in my hand， a potato that consoled me as i walked， told me not to fear， held me close to the earth， the potato i put in a pot that night， the potato i boiled above machu picchu， the patient， gn