名诗赏析[新版]

名诗赏析[新版] 名诗赏析 Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day 我如何能够将你比做夏日 William Shakespeare 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. Sometimes 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 the eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade When in eternal lines to time thou growest. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see. So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Spring 春 Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then bloom each time, 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 house 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 these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring! The sweet Spring! To Celia 致塞丽亚之歌 Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not wither'd be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st is back to me; Since when it grow, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee! Death Be Not Proud 死神莫神气 Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe, For, those, whom you think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me; From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe go, Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, warre, and sickness dwell, And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well. And better than thy stroake, why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die. To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time 劝姑娘们莫误青春 Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former. Then be not cry, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry. Ode on Solitude 平静的生活 Happy the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In white fire. Blest, who can unconcernedly find Hours, days and years slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixed; sweet recreations; And innocence, which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. The Tiger 老虎 Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what artCould twist the sinews of thy hearts? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? A Red, Red Rose 一朵红红的玫瑰 O my love is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; O my love is like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune. As fair thou art, my bonie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry. Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wil the sun; And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel a while, And I will come again, my love, Tho it were ten thousand mile! John Anderson, My Jo 约翰?安德生，我的爱人 John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acqent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow, But blessing on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo! John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill together And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi'ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, And hand in hand we'll go, And sleep together at the foot, John Anderson, my jo! The Bank O' Doon 杜恩河畔 Ye Banks and braes o' bonie Doon. How can ye bloom so fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I so weary, full of care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro the flowering thorn: Thou mind me o' departed joys, Departed, never to return.------ Oft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o'its love, And fondly so did I o'mine. Wi lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu'sweet upon its thorny tree;----- And my false lover stole my rose, But, ah! He left the thorn with me.----- The Daffodils 水仙花 I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: The thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company! I gazed- and gazed- but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. The Solitary Reaper 孤独的割麦者 Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sing a melancholy strain; O listen! For the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No nightingale did ever chant More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands; A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of today? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? What'er the theme, the Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And O'er the sickle bending; I listen'd, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. Composed upon Westminster Bridge 威斯敏斯特桥上的随想 Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear. The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples like Open unto the fields, and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! The very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still! On the Castle of Chillon 咏锡荣堡 Eternal spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art - For there thy habitation is the heart - The heart which love of Thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned, To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! Thy prison is a holy place And thy sad floor and an altar, for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God. Ozymandias 奥齐曼迭斯 I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert … Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away. Love's Philosophy 爱的哲学 The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of Heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion;Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle- Why not I with thine? See the mountains kiss high heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother: And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea- What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me? Rise Like Lions 像梦醒的雄狮般奋起 Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number- Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you - Ye are many - they are few. The Grasshopper and the Cricket 蜾蜾与蛐蛐 The poetry of earth is never dead. When all the birds are faint with the hot sun And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead - That is the Grasshopper's. He takes the lead In summer luxury; he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. The poetry of earth is ceasing never. On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The grasshoppers among some grassy hills. Ode on a Grecian Urn 希腊古翁颂 Thou still unravished bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities of mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and trembles? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss. Ah, happy, happy boughs! That cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodies, unwearied, Forever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! More happy, happy love! Forever warm and still to be enjoyed, For ever painting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, o mysterious priest, Lead's thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed? What little town by river or seashore, Or mountain, built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. O Attic shape, fair attitude! With breed Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form! Dost tease out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty: -- that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. The Arrow and the song 箭与歌 I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterwards, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroken; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. Sweet and Low 轻轻地，柔和地 Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow,Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me, While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest on mother's breast, Father will come to the soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon; Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. The Eagle 鹰 He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. Annabel Lee 安娜贝?李 It was many and many years ago, In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and beloved by me. She was a child and I was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love - I and my Annabel Lee - With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blow out of a cloud by night Chilling my Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulcher In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me: Yes! That was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling And killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of these who were older than we - Of many far wiser than we - And neither the angels in Heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams without bringing me Dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, In the sepulcher there by the sea - In her tomb by the side of the sea. The Year's at the Spring 春天 The year's at the Spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn; God's in his heaven - All's right with the world! O Captain! My Captain! 啊，船长～我的船长 O Captain! My captain! Our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! Heart! Heart! O the bleeding drops of red! Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells; Rise up --- for you the flag is flung --- for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon wreaths --- for you the shores crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here, captain! Dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer; his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm; he has no pulse or will; The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult, O shores! And ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. I Hear America Singing 我听到美利坚在歌唱 I hear America singing, the varied carols' I hear, Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be Blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work, The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, The deckhand singing on the steamboat deck, The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter Singing as he stands, The woodcutter song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown, the delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing, each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else, The day what belongs to the day - at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs. Dover Beach 多佛尔海滨 The sea is calm tonight, The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits, on the French coast the light Gleams 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 spray Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land. Listen! You hear the grating roar Of 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 bring The eternal note of sadness in. Sophocles long ago, Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery; we Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea. The sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. Ah, love, let us be true To one another! For the world, which seems To 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 plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night. When I Am Dead, My Dearest永别之时，我的至爱 When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. A Birthday 生日 My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a watered shoot; My heart is like an apple tree Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit? My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these Because my love is come to me. Raise me a dais of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it doves, and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes; In leaves, and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me. I'm Nobody 我是无名小卒 I'm nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell --- they'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody, How public --- like a frog --- To tell your name the livelong June To an admiring bog. The Snake 蛇 A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides --- You may have net Him --- did you not His notice sudden is --- The Grass divides as with a Comb --- A spotted shaft is seen --- And then it closes at your feet And opens further on --- He likes a Boggy Acre A Floor too cool for Corn --- Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot --- I more than once at Noon Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash Unbraiding in the Sun When stooping to secure it It wrinkled, and was gone --- Several of Nature's People I know; and they know me --- I feel for them a transport Of cordiality --- But never met this Fellow Attended, or alone Without a tighter breathing And Zero at the bone --- The Man He Killed 他枪杀的人 Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn. We should have set us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! "But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me,And killed him in his place. "I shot him dead because --- Because he was my foe. Just so: my foe of course he was; That's clear enough; although "He thought he'd list, perhaps, Off-hand like --- just as I --- Was out of work --- had sold his traps No other reason why. "Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down You'd treat if met where any bar is. Or help to half-a-crown." When I Came Last to Ludlow 上次我回到露楼镇 When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long is the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. The Wild Swans at Coole 库尔庄园的野天鹅 The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirror's a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore, All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, The first time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head, Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will, Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water, Mysterious, beautiful; Among what rushes will they build, By what lake's edge or pool Delight men's eyes when I awake some day To find they have flown away? Nothing Gold Can Stay 黄金时代倍难留 Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. The leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening 傍晚林中赏雪 Whose woods these are I think I know His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his hardness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. The Road Not Taken 未走的路 Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And look down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that, the passing there Had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Fog 雾 The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. Dreams 梦想 Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. Harlem 哈莱姆 What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore --- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over --- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load, Or does it explode? The Pond 池 Bright clouds of May Shade half the pond. Beyond, All but one bay Of emerald Tall reeds Like criss-cross bayonets Where a bird once called, Lies bright as the sun. No one heeds. The light wind frets And drifts the scum Of may-blossom. Till the moorhen calls Again Naught's to be done By birds or men. Still the May falls.