英语诗歌长篇4分钟

SPRINGThomas NashSpring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The palm and may make country houses gay,Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,In every street theses tunes our ears do greet,Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!Spring! the sweet Spring!

There was a naughty boy, 有一个顽皮的孩子， And a naughty boy was he, 顽皮的孩子就是他， He ran away to Scotland 他离家到苏格兰去 The people for to see--- 去看那边的人们 Then he found 然后他发现 That the ground 那边的地面 Was as hard, 一样的坚硬， That a yard 那边的尺码 Was as long, 一样的长， That a song 那里的歌声 Was as merry, 一样的美妙， That a cherry 那里的樱桃 Was as red, 一样的鲜红 That lead 那里的铅 Was as weighty, 一样的沉重 That fourscore 那里的八十 Was as eighty, 同样也是八十 That a door 那里的门 Was as wooden As in England---和英格兰一样，也是木制的 So he stood in his shoes 因此，他着鞋而立 And he wonder'd; 大感惊奇； He stood in his shoes 他着鞋而立 And he wonder'd. 大感惊奇。

《爱情太短，遗忘太长 》Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write,for example,'the night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance'. The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her,and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me,sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.To hear the immense night,still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her, the night is starry and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing.In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her,and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We,of that time,are no longer the same. I no longer love her,that's certain,but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another's.She will be another's.As she was before my kisses. Her voice,her bright body.Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her,that's certain,but maybe I love her. Love is so short,forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.今夜我可以写 今夜我可以写下最哀伤的诗句。 写，譬如，“夜镶满群星， 而星星遥远地发出蓝光并且颤抖“。 夜风在天空中回旋并低唱。 今夜我可以写下最哀伤的诗句。 我爱她，而且有时她也爱我 如同今晚的夜，我曾拥她入怀， 在无尽的天空下一遍又一遍地吻她。 她爱我，有时我也爱她。 怎会不爱上她那沉静的双眼? 今夜我可以写下最哀伤的诗句。 去想我并不拥用她，感觉我已失去她。 去聆听广阔的夜，因没有她而更加广阔。 诗句坠入我的灵魂，如同露水落在牧草上。 我的爱若不能拥有她又会怎样？ 群星满夜 而她不在我身边。 这就是一切了。 远处有人在唱着歌。 那么远。 我的空虚因为没有她。 我的目光搜寻她，想要把她拉近； 我的心寻找她 而她并没有和我在一起。相同的夜让相同的树木泛白。 彼时，我们也不再相似如初。 我不再爱她，这是确定的，但我曾多爱她。 我的声音试着循风来抚摸她的听觉。 别人的 如同她曾接受的我的千吻， 她的声音，她洁白的身体，她无尽的双眼， 她将会是别人的。 我不再爱她，这是确定的，但也许我还爱她。 爱情太短，遗忘太长。 借着如同今晚的夜，我曾拥她入怀 我的灵魂因失去了她而失落。 这是她最后一次让我承受的伤痛 而这些，便是我为她而写的最后的诗句

life is a gift—accept it.人生是一件礼物，接受它。life is a struggle—face it. 人生是一场斗争，面对它。life is a song—sing it. 人生是一首歌，歌唱它。life is a adventure—dare it. 人生是一场冒险，挑战它。life is a beauty—praise it.人生是一种美，颂扬它。life is a mystery—unfold it. 人生是一个谜，揭开它。life is a game—play it. 人生是一场游戏，玩好它。life is a puzzle—solve it. 人生是一道难题，解答它。life is an opportunity—take it. 人生是一次机遇，抓住它。life is a goal—achieve it.人生是一个目标，实现它。life is a mission—fulfill it .人生是一项使命，完成它。life is it—live it.这就是人生，过好它。我们每天都在生活，可是生活究竟什么呢？这首诗是为了告诉我们，不管生活以什么形式出现在我们的生活中，我们都要做好准备面对它，过好它。 辛辛苦苦从书上打出来的，希望能帮到你。

叶芝，当我们老了

she walks in beauty Dover Beach ------------Mattew ArnoldThe sea is calm tonight.The tide is full， the moon lies fairUpon the straits； on the French coast， the lightGleams and is gone； the cliffs of England stand，Glimmering and vast， out in the tranquil bay.Come to the window， sweet is the night-air！Only， from the long line of sprayWhere the sea meets the moon-blanched land，Listen！ you hear the grating roarOf pebbles which the waves draw back， and fling，At their return， up the high strand，Begin， and cease， and then again begin，With tremulous cadence slow， and bringThe eternal note of sadness in.Sophocles long agoHeard it on the Aegean， and it broughtInto his mind the turbid ebb and flowOf human misery； weFind also in the sound a thought，Hearing it by this distant northern sea.The Sea of FaithWas once， too， at the full， and round earth's shoreLay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.But now I only hearIts melancholy， long， withdrawing roar，Retreating， to the breathOf the night-wind， down the vast edges drearAnd naked shingles of the world.Ah， love， let us be trueTo one another！ for the world， which seemsTo lie before us like a land of dreams，So various， so beautiful， so new，Hath really neither joy， nor love， nor light，Nor certitude， nor peace， nor help for pain；And we are here as on a darkling plainSwept with confused alarms of struggle and flight，Where ignorant armies clash by night.