有关大学英文诗歌欣赏?
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发布时间：2023-05-01 06:21
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时间：2023-10-11 01:01
有关大学英文诗歌篇1
The Subalterns
by Thomas Hardy
I
"Poor wanderer，" said the leaden sky，
"I fain would lighten thee，
But there are laws in force on high
Which say it must not be."
II
"I would not freeze thee， shorn one，" cried
The North， "knew I but how
To warm my breath， to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou."
III
"To-morrow I attack thee， wight，"
Said Sickness. "Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite，
But am bid enter there."
IV
"e hither， Son，" I heard Death say;
"I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day，
But I， too， am a slave!"
V
We *** iled upon each other then，
And life to me had less
Of that fell look it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.
有关大学英文诗歌篇2
the suicide kid
by Charles Bukowski
I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed.
but all I could do was to get drunk again.
worse， the bar patrons even ended up liking me.
there I was trying to get pushed over the dark edge
and I ended up with free drinks
while somewhere else some poor son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital bed，
tubes sticking out all over him
as he fought like hell to live.
nobody would help me die as the drinks kept ing，
as the next day waited for me with its steel clamps，
its stinking anonymity，
its incogitant attitude.
death doesn't always e running when you call it，
not even if you call it from a shining castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth ***or the worst***。
such impertinence only makes the gods hesitate and delay.
ask me： I'm 72.
有关大学英文诗歌篇3
The River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter
by Ezra Pound
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate， pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts， playing horse，
You walked about my seat， playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan：
Two *** all people， without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed， being bashful.
Lowering my head， I looked at the wall.
Called to， a thousand times， I never looked back.
At fifteen I stopped scowling，
I desired my st to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the look out?
At sixteen you departed，
You went into far Ku-to-yen， by the river of swirling eddies，
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now， the moss is grown， the different mosses，
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn， in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are ing down through the narrows of the river Kiang，
Please let me know beforehand，
And I will e out to meet you
As far as Cho-fu-Sa.
有关大学英文诗歌篇4
The Return
by Frances Richey
What do you say when you've forgotten
how the grass *** ells，
married to the dark
soil crumbling in your hands?
When the sun makes a bed for you to lie in?
When a voice you've never heard
has missed you，
singing down your bones——
it's taken so long to get here.
Now I'm breathing in the mountains
as if I'd never left.
And when I go inside
I'm surprised to see a lime green worm
has landed on my shorts，
inching his way across a strange white country.
He stops and rises，
leaning out of himself——
a tiny periscope
peering from the glow of the underdream
where there are no symbols for death.
He looks around.
I place my index finger
at the tip of what I guess to be his head，
though I don't see an eye or an ear，
or the infinitesimal feet
as he crawls across my palm——
a warmer planet.
Lately I've wondered
what hand guides my way when I am lost.
I can't feel him
though I see him rise again，
survey the future， flat
and broken into five dead ends.
I curl my fingers to make a cup
and carry him like a blessing to the garden——
What will happen next is a mystery——
to be so light in the world， to leave no tracks.
有关大学英文诗歌篇5
The Routine Things Around the House
by Stephen Dunn
When Mother died
I thought： now I'll have a death poem.
That was unforgivable
yet I've since forgiven myself
as sons are able to do
who've been loved by their mothers.
I stared into the coffin
knowing how long she'd live，
how many lifetimes there are
in the sweet revisions of memory.
It's hard to know exactly
how we ease ourselves back from sadness，
but I remembered when I was twelve，
1951， before the world
unbuttoned its blouse.
I had asked my mother ***I was trembling***
if I could see her breasts
and she took me into her room
without embarras *** ent or coyness
and I stared at them，
afraid to ask for more.
Now， years later， someone tells me
Cancers who've never had mother love
are doomed and I， a Cancer，
feel blessed again. What luck
to have had a mother
who showed me her breasts
when girls my age were developing
their separated countries，
what luck
she didn't doom me
with too much or too little.
Had I asked to touch，
perhaps to suck them，
what would she have done?
Mother， dead woman
who I think permits me
to love women easily，
this poem
is dedicated to where
we stopped， to the inpleteness
that was sufficient
and to how you buttoned up，
began doing the routine things
around the house.
