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 诗歌欣赏(English Poems)
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赵宝斌 编辑整理
Now I have collected some of the English
poems. I hope you enjoy them and learn something from them. I also hope
you recommend me some good poems.
Risk（冒险）
Author Unknown
To laugh is to risk appearing
a fool,
To weep to risk appearing sentimental(伤感）,
To reach out is to risk involvement（介入）,
To expose feeling is to risk exposing your true self,
To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss,
To love is to risk not being loved in return,
To live is to risk dying,
To hope is to risk despair,
To try is to risk failure,
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard（危险） in life is
to risk nothing,
The person who risks nothing has nothing and is nothing.
This person may avoid suffering and sorrow, but cannot learn, feel
change, grow, love life,
Chained（束缚） by attitudes he/she is a slave, and forfeits（失去） freedom,
Only a person who risks is free.
You Are Worth it（值得）
Author Unknown
Do not undermine(贬低）
your worth by comparing yourself with others.
It is because we are different that each of us is special.
Do not set your goals by what other people deem(认为）important.
Only you know what is best for you.
Do not take for granted the things closest to your heart.
Cling to（依附） them as you would enjoy your life, for without them,
life is meaningless.
Do not let your life slip through your fingers by living in
the past nor for the future.
By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your
life.
Do not give up when you still have something to give.
Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.
It is a fragile（软弱） thread that binds（约束） us to each other.
Do not be afraid to encounter （碰到）risks.
It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.
Do not shut love out of your life by saying it is impossible to find.
The quickest way to receive love is to give love;
The fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly.
Do not dismiss your dreams.
To be without dreams is to be without hope;
To be without hope is to be without purpose.
Do not run through life so fast that you forget not only where you
have been, but also where you are going.
Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored（品味） each step of the
way.
 To
the top(回页首)
A
Date（约会）
He went out one lovely
night
To call upon a miss,
And when he reached her residence
this.
like
stairs
up
ran
He
Her pap met him at the door,
He didn't met the miss.
He'll not go there again though
for
he
went
down
stairs
like
this.
Not Poems(不算诗）
Eat
Eat
Eat
Eat
Fat
Fat
Fat
Suicide（自杀）
He rocked the boat,
Did Ezra Shrank.
These bubbles mark
o
o
o
o
o
Where Ezra sank.
To
the top(回页首)
Ode(赞歌）to a Goldfish
by Gyles Brandreth
O
Wet
Pet!
This is the shortest
poem in the history of English literature
Seasons（四季）
Spring is green,
Summer is bright,
Autumn is gold,
Winter is white.
Year in year out,
We work and fight,
For a new world, of red sunlight.
To
Sleep
by John
Keats
O soft embalmer of the
still midnight,
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee,
close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing
eyes,
Or wait the amen ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passed day will
shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that
still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing
like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.
To
the top(回页首)
A
Song of Joys
by Walt Whitman
from Leaves Of Grass
O TO make the most jubilant song!
Full of music&emdash;full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments&emdash;full of grain and trees.
O for the voices of animals&emdash;O
for the swiftness and balance
of fishes!
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!
O the joy of my spirit&emdash;it
is uncaged&emdash;it darts like
lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.
O the engineer's joys! to go with a
locomotive!
To hear the hiss of steam, the merry shriek, the steam-whistle,
the laughing locomotive!
To push with resistless way and speed off in the distance.
O the gleesome saunter over fields
and hillsides!
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist fresh
stillness of the woods,
The exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak, and all through
the forenoon.
O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys!
The saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the cool
gurgling by the ears and hair.
O the fireman's joys!
I hear the alarm at dead of night,
I hear bells, shouts! I pass the crowd, I run!
The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.
O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter,
towering in the arena
in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet
his opponent.
O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy
which only the
human soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady
and limitless floods.
O the mother's joys!
The watching, the endurance, the precious love, the anguish,
the patiently yielded life.
O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation,
The joy of soothing and pacifying, the joy of concord and
harmony.
O to go back to the place where I was
born,
To hear the birds sing once more,
To ramble about the house and barn and over the fields
once more,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.
O to have been brought up on bays,
lagoons, creeks, or along
the coast,
To continue and be employ'd there all my life,
The briny and damp smell, the shore, the salt weeds exposed at
low water,
The work of fishermen, the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher;
I come with my clam-rake and spade, I come with my eel-spear,
Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on the flats,
I laugh and work with them, I joke at my work like a mettle-some
young man;
In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on
foot on the ice&emdash;I have a small axe to cut holes in the
ice,
Behold me well-clothed going gayly
or returning in the afternoon,
my brood of tough boys accompanying me,
My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no
one else so well as they love to be with me,
By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me.
Another time in warm weather out in
a boat, to lift the lobster-pots
where they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know the buoys,)
O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water as I
row just before sunrise toward the buoys,
I pull the wicker pots up slantingly, the dark green lobsters are
desperate with their claws as I take them out, I insert wooden
pegs in the joints of their pincers,
I go to all the places one after another, and then row back
to the shore,
There in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be
boil'd till their color becomes scarlet.
Another time mackerel-taking,
Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill
the water for miles;
Another time fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake Bay, I one of
the brown-faced crew;
Another time trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with
braced body,
My left foot is on the gunwale, my right arm throws far out the
coils of slender rope,
In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs,
my companions.
O boating on the rivers,
The voyage down the St. Lawrence, the superb scenery, the steamers,
The ships sailing, the Thousand Islands, the occasional timber-raft
and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweepoars,
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they
cook supper at evening.
(O something pernicious and dread!
Something far away from a puny and pious life!
Something unproved! something in a trance!
Something escaped from the anchorage and driving free.)
O to work in mines, or forging iron,
Foundry casting, the foundry itself, the rude high roof, the
ample and shadow'd space,
The furnace, the hot liquid pour'd out and running.
O to resume the joys of the soldier!
To feel the presence of a brave commanding officer&emdash;to feel
his sympathy!
To behold his calmness&emdash;to be warm'd in the rays of his
smile!
To go to battle&emdash;to hear the bugles play and the drums beat!
To hear the crash of artillery&emdash;to see the glittering of
the
bayonets and musket-barrels in the sun!
To see men fall and die and not complain!
To taste the savage taste of blood&emdash;to be so devilish!
To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.
O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my
old cruise again!
I feel the ship's motion under me, I feel the Atlantic breezes
fanning me,
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head, There
&emdash;she blows!
Again I spring up the rigging to look with the rest&emdash;we
descend, wild with excitement,
I leap in the lower'd boat, we row toward our prey where he lies,
We approach stealthy and silent, I see the mountainous mass,
lethargic, basking,
I see the harpooner standing up, I see the weapon dart from
his vigorous arm;
O swift again far out in the ocean the wounded whale, settling,
running to windward, tows me,
Again I see him rise to breathe, we row close again,
I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep, turn'd
in the wound,
Again we back off, I see him settle
again, the life is leaving
him fast,
As he rises he spouts blood, I see him swim in circles narrower and
narrower, swiftly cutting the water&emdash;I see him die,
He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and then
falls flat and still in the bloody foam.
O the old manhood of me, my noblest
joy of all!
My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard,
My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.
O ripen'd joy of womanhood! O happiness
at last!
I am more than eighty years of age, I am the most venerable mother,
How clear is my mind&emdash;how all people draw night to me!
What attractions are these beyond any before? what bloom more
than the bloom of youth?
What beauty is this that descends upon me and rises out of me?
O the orator's joys!
To inflate the chest, to roll the thunder of the voice out from
the ribs and throat,
To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself,
To lead America&emdash;to quell America with a great tongue.
O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd
on itself, receiving
identity through materials and loving them, observing
characters and absorbing them,
My soul vibrated back to me from them, from sight, hearing,
touch, reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and the like,
The real life of my senses and flesh transcending my senses and flesh,
My body done with materials, my sight done with my material eyes,
Proved to me this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyes
which finally see,
Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, laughs, shouts,
embraces, procreates.
O the farmer's joys!
Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Iowan's,
Kansian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys!
To rise at peep of day and pass forth nimbly to work,
To plough land in the fall for winter-sown crops,
To plough land in the spring for maize,
To train orchards, to graft the trees, to gather apples in
the fall.
O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or
in a good place along
shore,
To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep, or race naked along
the shore.
O to realize space!
The plenteousness of all, that there are no bounds,
To emerge and be of the sky, of the sun and moon and flying
clouds, as one with them.
O the joy of a manly self-hood!
To be servile to none, to defer to none, not to any tyrant
known or unknown,
To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and elastic,
To look with calm gaze or with a flashing eye,
To speak with a full and sonorous voice out of a broad chest,
To confront with your personality all the other personalities of
the earth.
Know'st thou the excellent joys of
youth?
Joys of the dear companions and of the merry word and laughing
face?
Joy of the glad light-beaming day, joy of the wide-breath'd games?
Joy of sweet music, joy of the lighted ball-room and the dancers?
Joy of the plenteous dinner, strong carouse and drinking?
Yet O my soul supreme!
Know'st thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit
bow'd yet proud, the
suffering and the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings
day or night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space?
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife,
the sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.
O while I live to be the ruler of life,
not a slave,
To meet life as a powerful conqueror,
No fumes, no ennui, no more complaints or scornful criticisms,
To these proud laws of the air, the water and the ground,
proving my interior soul impregnable,
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.
For not life's joys alone I sing, repeating&emdash;the
joy of death!
The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few
moments, for reasons,
Myself discharging my excrementitious body to be burn'd, or
render'd to powder, or buried,
My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres,
My voided body nothing more to me, returning to the purifications,
further offices, eternal uses of the earth.
O to attract by more than attraction!
How it is I know not&emdash;yet behold! the something which
obeys none of the rest,
It is offensive, never defensive&emdash;yet how magnetic it draws.
O to struggle against great odds, to
meet enemies undaunted!
To be entirely alone with them, to find how much one can stand!
To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, face to face!
To mount the scaffold, to advance to the muzzles of guns
with perfect nonchalance!
To be indeed a God!
O to sail to sea in a ship!
To leave this steady unendurable land,
To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and
the houses,
To leave you O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship,
To sail and sail and sail!
O to have life henceforth a poem of
new joys!
To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on!
To be a sailor of the world bound for all ports,
A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,)
A swift and swelling ship full of rich words, full of joys.
To
the top(回页首)
The
Flight of Youth
by Richard Henry Stoddard
There
are gains for all our losses.
There are balms for all our pain:
But when youth, the dream, departs
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.
We
are stronger, and are better,
Under manhood's sterner reign:
Still we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with flying feet,
And will never come again.
Something
beautiful is vanished,
And we sigh for it in vain;
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth, and in the air,
But it never comes again!
青春的飞逝
理查德 亨利 斯托达德
我们失去的一切都能得到补偿，
我们所有的痛苦都能得到安慰；
可是梦境似的青春一旦消逝，
它带走了我们心中某种美好的事物，
从此一去不复返回。
严峻的成年生活将我们驱使，
我们变得日益刚强、更臻完美；
可是依然感到某种甜美的东西，
已随着青春飞逝，
永不再返回。
美好的东西已经消失，
我们枉自为此叹息；
虽然在天地之间，
我们到处能看见青春的魅力，
可是它永不再返回！
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