英语诗歌鉴赏32例

1. LOSS AND GAIN

When I compare

What I have lost with what I have gained, What I have missed with what attained,

Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware

How many days have been idly spent;

How like an arrow the good intent

Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare

To measure loss and gain in this wise?

Defeat may be victory in disguise;

he lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

2. SUNDOWN

The summer sun is sinking low;

Only the tree-tops redden and glow:

Only the weathercock on the spire

Of the neighboring church is a flame of fire;

All is in shadow below.

O beautiful, awful summer day,

What hast thou given, what taken away?

Life and death, and love and hate,

Homes made happy or desolate,

Hearts made sad or gay!

On the road of life one mile-stone more!

In the book of life one leaf turned o'er!

Like a red seal is the setting sun

On the good and the evil men have done,-- Naught can to-day restore!

3. My heart leaps up

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky,

So was it when my life began;

So it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

4. When you are old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad race, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

5. Get Up and Bar the Door

IT fell about the Martinmas time,

And a gay time it was then,

When our goodwife got puddings to make, And she?s boiled them in the pan.

The wind so cold blew south and north, And blew into the floor;

Quoth our goodman to our goodwife, “Go out and bar the door.”

“My hand is in my hussyfscap,

Goodman, as ye may see;

If it should not be barr?d this hundred year, It’s no be barr’d for me.”

They made a paction ?tween them two, They made it firm and sure,

That the first word whoe’er should speak, Should rise and bar the door.

Then by there came two gentlemen,

At twelve o’clock at night,

And they could neither see house nor hall, Nor coal nor candle-light.

“Now whether is this a rich man?s house, Or whether is it a poor?”

But ne?er a word would one of them speak, For barring of the door.

And first they ate the white puddings,

And then they ate the black;

Tho? much thought the goodwife to herself, Yet ne?er a word she spake.

Then said the one unto the other,

“Here, man, take ye my knife;

Do ye take off the old man?s beard,

And I’ll kiss the goodwife.”

“But there?s no water in the house,

And what shall we do then?”

“What ails thee at the pud ding-broth,

That boils into the pan?”

O, up then started our goodman,

An angry man was he:

“Will ye kiss my wife before my eye, And scald me with pudding-broth?”

Then up and started our goodwife,

made three skips on the floor: “Goodman, you?ve spoken the foremost word, Get up and bar the door.”

6. She dwelt among the untrodden ways She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

--Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

I travelled among unknown men

7. I travelled among unknown men

I travelled among unknown men

In lands beyond the sea;

Nor, England! did I know till then

What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!

Nor will I quit thy shore

A second time; for still I seem

To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel

The joy of my desire;

And she I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed, The bowers where Lucy played;

And thine too is the last green field

That Lucy's eyes surveyed.

8. To the Cuckoo

O blithe newcomer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice:

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,

Or but a wandering V oice?

While I am lying on the grass

Thy twofold shout I hear;

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale

Of sunshine and of flowers,

Thou bringest unto me a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my schoolboy days

I listened to; that Cry

Which made me look a thousand ways

In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green;

And thou wert still a hope, a love;

Still longed for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O blessed birth! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place,

That is fit home for Thee!

9. A Pause

They made the chamber sweet with flowers and leaves, And the bed sweet with flowers on which I lay;

While my soul, love-bound, loitered on its way.

I did not hear the birds about the eaves,

Nor hear the reapers talk among the sheaves:

Only my soul kept watch from day to day,

My thirsty soul kept watch for one away:---- Perhaps he loves, I thought, remembers, grieves,

At length there came the step upon the stair,

Upon the lock the old familiar hand:

Then first my spirit seemed to scent the air

Of paradise; then first the tardy sand

Of time ran golden; and I felt my hair

Put on a glory, and my soul expand.

10. When my love swears that she is made of truth When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor?d youth, Unlearned in the world?s false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.

But wherefore says she not she is unjust?

And wherefore say not I that I am old?

O, love?s best habit is in seeming trust,

And age in love loves not to have years told: Therefore I lie with her and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flatter?d be.

11.Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed,

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

12. Richard Cory

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -

And admirably schooled in every grace;

In fine we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

13. Miniver Cheevy

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,

Grew lean while he assailed the seasons

He wept that he was ever born,

And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old

When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; The vision of a warrior bold

Would send him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,

And dreamed, and rested from his labors;

He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,

And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown

That made so many a name so fragrant;

He mourned Romance, now on the town,

And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici,

Albeit he had never seen one;

He would have sinned incessantly

Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace

And eyed a khaki suit with loathing:

He missed the medieval grace

Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought,

But sore annoyed was he without it;

Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,

And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,

Scratched his head and kept on thinking;

Miniver coughed, and called it fate,

And kept on drinking.

14. Who's Who

A shilling life will give you all the facts:

How Father beat him, how he ran away,

What were the struggles of his youth, what acts Made him the greatest figure of his day;

Of how he fought, fished, hunted, worked all night, Though giddy, climbed new mountains; named a sea;

Some of the last researchers even write

Love made him weep his pints like you and me.

With all his honors on, he sighed for one Who, say astonished critics, lived at home;

Did little jobs about the house with skill

And nothing else; could whistle; would sit still Or potter round the garden; answered some

Of his long marvelous letters but kept none.

15. In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.

16. Heat

O wind, rend open the heat,

cut apart the heat,

rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop

through this thick air--

fruit cannot fall into heat

that presses up and blunts

the points of pears

and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat--

plough through it,

turning it on either side

of your path.

17. Oread

Whirl up, sea --

whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines

on our rocks,

hurl your green over us, cover us with your pools of fir.

18. FOG

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

19. London

London, my beautiful,

it is not the sunset

nor the pale green sky shimmering through the curtain of the silver birch

not the quietness;

It is not the hopping

of birds

upon the lawn,

nor the darkness

stealing over all things

that moves me.

But as the moon creeps slowly over the tree-tops

among the stars,

I think of her

and the glow her passing sheds of men.

London, my beautiful,

I will climb

into the branches

to the moonlit tree-tops, that my blood may be cooled by the wind.

20. The Red Wheelbarrow so much depends

upon a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white chickens.

21.

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22. The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,

How little that which thou deniest me is;

Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,

And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;

Thou know’st that this cannot be said

A sin, or a shame, or loss of maidenhead,

Yet this enjoys before it woo,

And pampered swells with one blood made of two, And this ,alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,

Where we almost, nay more than married are. This flea is you and I, and this

Our marriage bed and marriage temple is; Though parents grudge, and you, we are met.

And cloistered in these living walls of jet. Though use make you apt to kill me

Let not to that, self-murder added be,

And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since

Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?

Wherein could this flea guilty be,

Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?

Yet thou triumph’st and say’st that thou

Find’st not thy self nor me the weaker now;

?Tis true; then learn how false fears be;

Just so much honor, when you yield’st to me.

Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

23. A V ALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING. AS virtuous men pass mildly away,

And whisper to their souls to go,

Whilst some of their sad friends do say,

"Now his breath goes," and some say, “No.”

So let us melt, and make no noise,

No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;

'Twere profanation of our joys