英语诗歌中长篇

分享一些中长篇的英文励志诗歌，一起来看看吧。下面是我给大家整理的中长篇励志英文诗歌，供大家参阅!

Sylvia Plath

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry

Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.

In a drafty museum, your nakedness

Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother

Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow

Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath

Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:

A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral

In my Victorian nightgown.

Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try

Your handful of notes;

The clear vowels rise like balloons.

The tightness and the nilness round that space

when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect

its make and number and, as one bends his face

towards your window, you catch sight of more

on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent

down cradled guns that hold you under cover

and everything is pure interrogation

until a rifle motions and you move

with guarded unconcerned acceleration--

a little emptier, a little spent

as always by that quiver in the self,

subjugated, yes, and obedient.

So you drive on to the frontier of writing

where it happens again. The guns on tripods;

the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating

data about you, waiting for the squawk

of clearance; the marksman training down

out of the sun upon you like a hawk.

And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,

as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall

on the black current of a tarmac road

past armor-plated vehicles, out between

the posted soldiers flowing and receding

like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

Bends low, comes up twenty years away

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade,

Just like his old man.

My grandfather could cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner's bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, digging down and down

For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I'll dig with it.

the souljohn 灵魂约翰·格斯瓦斯my soul's the sky——my flying soul!the lightnight flare,the thunder roll,the sun and moon and stars go by,and great winds sweep my soul,the sky!my brooding soul——my soul's the sea!the snaky weed,and whishing scree,the white wave's surge from pole to pole,and still green depth——the sea's my soul!my soul's the spring——my loveing soul!will dance,and leap,and drain the bowlof love;and longing,twine and clingto all the world——my soul's the spring!my fevered soul!my soul's the town!thro'flaring street goes up and down;the bells of feast and traffic tolland maze their music in my soul.my tranquil soul!my soul too widefor sky,or spring,town,or tide!thou traveller to outer strandof home serene——my soul so grand!我的灵魂是太空！电在闪呵雷在轰，日月群星在运动，时而卷起大台风！我的灵魂是大海！蛇样的藻响石崖，百浪涛天天接地，琉璃万顷身无界！我的灵魂是阳春，踊跃狂饮爱之淳，万事万物皆有情，渴望，缠绵理不清。我的灵魂是市镇！陆离街道莽纵横；祭日之中驿站铃，结成交响之乐音。我的灵魂太沉静，天，春，镇，海比不赢！远游彼岸之太清——我的灵魂真雄浑！a london thoroughfare(2 a.m.)amy lowell 一条伦敦大马路（午夜二时）阿米·罗维尔they have watered the street,it shines in the glare of lamps,cold,white lamps,and lieslike a slow-moving river,barred with silver and black.cabs go down it,one,and then another.between then i hear the shuffling of feet.tramps doze on the window-ledges,night-walkers pass along the side-walks.the city is squalid and sinister,with the silver-barred street in the midst,slow-moving,a river leading nowhere.opposite my window,the moon cuts,clear and round,throu ugh the plum-colored night.she cannot light the city;it is too bright.it was white lamps,and glitters coldly.i stand in the window and watch the moon.she is thin and lustreless,but i love her.i know the moon,and this is an alien city.人们在街上洒了水，街道在灯光中扬辉，冷，白色的灯，躺着像一条河慢慢流进，有银色、黑色的条纹，马车走过来，一台，又是一台。在它们之间夹着脚音。脚音在窗台上打盹，人行道上过着夜行的人。这城市阴晦而苦闷，有银线条的街在它中心，慢慢的流着一条没有出口的河。正对着我的窗有澄净的，圆圆的月亮，穿过杏色的穹苍，她不会照耀城市；由于城市太亮。城市有白色的灯放射着冷光。我站在窗边望着月亮，她太冷淡而不辉煌，但我爱她，月亮是我的故人，城市在异乡。These Things Shall Never Die 这些美好不会消逝By --Charles Dickens/查尔斯.狄更斯The pure.the bright,the beautiful, 一切纯洁的,辉煌的,美丽的,That stirred our hearts in youth, 强烈地震撼着我们年轻的心灵的,The impulses to wordless prayer, 推动着我们做无言的祷告的,The dreams of love and truth; 让我们梦想着爱与真理的;The longing after something's lost, 在失去后为之感到珍惜的,The spirit's yearning cry, 使灵魂深切地呼喊着的,The striving after better hopes- 为了更美好的梦想而奋斗着的-These things can never die. 这些美好不会消逝。The timid hand stretched forth to aid 羞怯地伸出援助的手，A brother in his need, 在你的弟兄需要的时候，A kindly word in grief's dark hour 伤恸、困难的时候，一句亲切的话That proves a friend indeed ; 就足以证明朋友的真心；The plea for mercy softly breathed, 轻声地乞求怜悯，When justice threatens nigh, 在审判临近的时候，The sorrow of a contrite heart- 懊悔的心有一种伤感--These things shall never die. 这些美好不会消逝。Let nothing pass for every hand 在人间传递温情Must find some work to do ; 尽你所能地去做；Lose not a chance to waken love- 别错失去了唤醒爱的良机-----Be firm,and just ,and true; 为人要坚定，正直，忠诚；So shall a light that cannot fade因此上方照耀着你的那道光芒Beam on thee from on high. 就不会消失。And angel voices say to thee---你将听到天使的声音在说-----These things shall never die. 这些美好不会消逝。