英文诗歌鉴赏讲义

Try to remember the kind of SeptemberWhen life was slow and also mellowTry to remember the kind of SeptemberWhen grass was green and grain was yellowTry to remember the kind of SeptemberWhen you were a tender and a callow年轻而无经验的，羽翼未丰的 fellowTry to remember and if you rememberThen followfollow, ohohTry to remember the kind of SeptemberThat no one wept except the willowTry to remember the kind of SeptemberThat dreams were kept beside your pillowTry to remember the kind of SeptemberWhen love was an ember灰烬，余烬 about to billowBillow 翻腾Try to remember and if you rememberThen followfollow, ohohDeep in December its nice to rememberAlthough you know the snow will followDeep in December its nice to rememberThe fire of September that made us mellowDeep in December our hearts should rememberAnd followfollow, ohohScarborough FairAre you going to Scarborough FairParsley,sage,rosemary and thymeRemember me to one who lives thereShe once was a true love of mineTell her to make me a cambric 麻纱，细薄布shirt(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)Parsley,sage,rosemary and thyme(Tracing名词，描摹，摹图，显迹 of sparrow麻雀，矮小的人 on the snow crestCrest 在.上顶饰ed brown)Without to seam缝合线，用线缝接s nor needle work(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain)Then shell be a true love of mine(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)Tell her to find me an acre of land(On the side of a hill asprinkling of leaves)Parsley,sage,rosemary and thyme(Washes the grave with silvery tears)Between the salt water and the sea strand搁浅，弄断(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)Then shell be a true love of mineTell her to reap it with a sickle 镰刀of leather(War bellows blazing in scarlet battalion营，军营，部队s)Parsley,sage,rosemary and thyme(Generals order their soldiers to kill)And gather it all in a bunch of heather石南属植物(And to fight for a cause theyve long ago forgotten)Then shell be a true love of mineAre you going to Scarborough FairParsley,sage,rosemary and thymeRemember me to one who lives thereShe once was a true love of minePoetryWhat is Poetry? Who knows?Not a rose, but the scent of the rose;Not the sky, but the light in the sky;Not the fly, but the gleam of the fly;Not the sea, but the sound of the sea;Not myself, but what makes meSee, hear, and feel something that proseCannot: and what is it, who knows?Eleanor FarjeonHow do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth宽度，幅度，宽宏 and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every days most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhoods faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saintsI love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.If I Had My Lifeto Live OverI would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth wouldgo into a holding pattern if I werent there for the day.I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.I would have talked less and listened more.I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer daybecause my hair had just been teased and sprayed.I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.I would have cried and laughed less while watching televisionand more while watching life.I would never have bought anything just because it was practical,wouldnt show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy,Id have cherished every moment and realized that the wondermentgrowing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later.Now go get washed up for dinner.” There would have been more “I love yous” More “Im sorrys.”But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute.Look at it and really see it. Live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!Dont worry about who doesnt like you, who has more, or whos doing what. Instead, lets cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.Lets think about what God has blessed us with. And what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, as well as spiritually.Life is too short to let it pass you by. We only have one shot at this and then its gone.I hope you all have a blessed day.Erma BombeckSliverSlowly, silently, now the moonWalks the night in her silver shoon;This way, and that, she peers, and seesSliver fruit upon silver trees;One by one the casements catchHer beams beneath the silvery thatch;Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog;From their shadowy cote the white breasts peepOf doves in a silver-feathered sleep;A harvest mouse goes scampering by,With silver claws, and silver eye; And motionless fish in the water gleam,By silver reeds in a silver stream.Walter de la MareBuss StopI ran up the door,Open the stairs,Said my pajamas,And put on my prayers,Turned off my bed,Tumbled in to my light,And all becauseYou kissed me good-night.Why Do I Love You, Sir“Why do I love” You, Sir?BecauseThe Wind does not require the GrassTo answerWherefore when he passes She cannot keep Her placeBecause He KnowsandDo not YouAnd we Know notEnough for UsThe Wisdom it be soThe Lightningnever asked an EyeWherefore it shutwhen He was byBecause He knows it cannot speakAnd reasons not containedof TalkThere bepreferred by Dantier FolkThe SunriseSircompelleth MeBecause Hes Sunriseand I seeThereforeThenI love theeEmily DickinsonBed in SummerIn winter I get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle-light.In summer, quite the other way,I have to go to bed by day.I have to go to bed and seeThe birds still hopping on the tree,Or hear the grown-up peoples feetStill going past me in the street.And does it not seem hard to you,When all the sky is clear and blue,And I should like so much to play,To have to go to bed by day?Robert Louis Stevenson一个人不欢喜诗，何以文学趣味就低下呢？因为一切纯文学都要有诗的特质。一部好小说或是一部好戏剧都要当一首诗看。诗比别类文学较谨严，较纯粹，较精微。如果对于诗没有兴趣，对于小说戏剧散文等等的佳妙处也终不免有些隔膜。不爱好诗而爱好小说戏剧的人们大半在小说和戏剧中只能见到最粗浅的一部分，就是故事。所以他们看小说和戏剧，不问它们的艺术技巧，只求它们里面有有趣的故事。他们最爱读的小说不是描写心生活或是社会真相的作品，而纯粹是福尔摩斯侦探案之类的东西。爱好故事本来不是一件坏事，但是如果要真能欣赏文学，我们一定要超过原始的童稚的好奇心，要超过对于福尔摩斯侦探案的爱好，去求艺术家对于人生的深刻的观照.“观照”这里指观察和认识。以与他们传达这种观照的技巧。第一流小说家不尽是会讲故事的人，第一流小说中的故事大半只像枯树搭成的花架，用处只在支撑住一园锦绣灿烂生气蓬勃的藤花卉。这些故事以外的东西就是小说中的诗。读小说只见到故事而没有见到它的诗，就像看到花架而忘记架上的花。要养成纯正的文学趣味，我们最好从读诗入手。能欣赏诗，自然能欣赏小说戏剧与其他种类文学。诗是培养趣味的最好的媒介，能欣赏诗的人们不但对于其他种类文学可有真确的了解，而且也决不会觉到人生是干枯的。(选自朱光潜美学文学论文选集。)Sea-GullHark to the whimper of the sea-gull;He weeps because hes not an ea-gull.Suppose you were, you silly sea-gull, Could you explain it to your she-gull?Ogden NashThe RainbowMy heart leaps up when I behold,A rainbow in the sky;So was it when my life began,So is now I am a man,So be it when I shall grow old Or let me die!The child is father of the ManAnd I could wish with my days to beBound each to each by natural piety.William WordsworthWhyDoOurJoysDepartWhydoourjoysdepartForCarestoseizetheheart?Iknownot.Naturesays.Obey;andManobeys.Isee,andknownotwhy,Thornliveandrosesdie.WalterLandorThe Span of LifeThe old dog Barks backward without getting up,I can remember when he was a pup.Robert FrostThe curfew tolls knell of parting day,The lowing herd wind slowly oer the lea,The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,And leaves the world to the darkness and to me.Will all great Neptunes ocean wash this bloodClean from my hand? No; this my hand will ratherThe multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.Shakespeare, Macbeth, II,2yet from these flamesNo light; but rather darkness visibleServed only to discover sights of woe,Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peaceAnd rest can never dwell, hope never comesThat comes to all, but torture without endStill urges, and a fiery deluge, fedWith ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.Milton, Paradise Lost, Book I, 62-69OwildWestWind,thoubreathofAutumnsbeing, Thou,fromwhoseunseenpresencetheleavesdeadAredriven,likeghostsfromanenchanterfleeing, Yellow,andblack,andpale,andhecticred, Pestilence-strickenmultitudes:Othou, Whochariotesttotheirdarkwintrybed Thewingedseeds,wheretheyliecoldandlow, Eachlikeacorpsewithinitsgrave,until ThineazuresisteroftheSpringshallblowHerclarionoerthedreamingearth,andfill (Drivingsweetbudslikeflockstofeedinair) Withlivinghuesandodoursplainandhill: WildSpirit,whichartmovingeverywhere; Destroyerandpreserver;hear,ohhear!Shelley, Ode to the West WindBehold 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 profoundIs overflowing with the sound.SomebodySomebodydid agoldendeed;Somebodyproved afriend inneed; Somebodysang abeautifulsong;Somebodysmiled thewhole daylong;Somebodythought, “Tissweet tolive”;Somebodysaid, “Imglad togive”;Somebodyfought avaliantfight;Somebodylived toshield theright;Was that“somebody”you? AnonymousI Throw the AppleI throw the apple; if thou love me true Take it and give what willing maidens do; But if thy thoughts be other than I pray, Taket all the same and think how things decayPlatoLoves PhilosophyThe fountains mingle with the riverAnd the rivers with the Ocean,The winds of Heaven mix for everWith a sweet emotion,Nothing in the world is single;All things by a law divineIn one spirit meet and mingleWhy not, I with thine? See the mountains kiss high HeavenAnd the waves clasp one another;No sister-flower would be forgivenIf it disdained its brother;And the sunlight clasps the earthAnd the moonbeams kiss the sea:What is all these sweet work worthIf thou kiss not me?Percy Bysshe ShelleySomewhere or OtherSomewhere or other there must surely beThe face not seen, the voice not heard,The heart that not yetnever yetah me!Made answer to my word.Somewhere or other, may be near or far;Past land and sea, clean out of sight;Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the starThat tracks her night by night:Somewhere or other, may be far or near;With just a wall, a hedge, between;With just the last leaves of the dying yearFallen on a turf grown green.Christina Georgina Rossetti见与不见你见，或者不见我 我就在那里 不悲不喜 你念，或者不念我 情就在那里 不来不去 你爱，或者不爱我 爱就在那里 不增不减 你跟，或者不跟我 我的手就在你手里 不舍不弃 来我的怀里 或者 让我住进你的心里 默然相爱 寂静欢喜仓央嘉措She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies;And all thats best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes.Thus mellowed to that tender lightWhich heaven to gaudy day denies.A Slumber Did My Spirit SealA slumber did my spirit seal;I had no human fears:She seemed a thing that could not feelThe touch of earthly years.No motion has she now, no force;She neither hears nor sees;Rolled round in earths diurnal course,With rocks, and stones, and trees.William Wordsworth 这首诗每行四个音步，每个音步均按一个非重读音节再加上一个重读音节的规律来排列（只有第6行第2个音步是两个非重读音节再加一个重读音节，但整体来说，不影响整节诗的格律），这就使得诗的节奏从容不迫，而且词语中饱含较多的柔和音，如第2行在重音步上的皆为长元音或复合元音，读起来便使声音宛转，恰当地表现出女主人公的盈盈步态，这样的描述颇类似我国古代的笔法：“其始来也，耀乎若白日出照屋梁；其少进也，皎若明月舒其光”。据一位希伯来乐曲的收集者，拜伦的一位朋友说，这首诗是拜伦为配乐而作，因此比较注重音韵。1.1 Trochee / The trochaic foot 抑扬格A meter of poetry consisting of one strong(or long) beat followed by one weak(or short)beat, e.g. tiger, lovely.Example 1. Percy Bysshe Shelley “Song to the Men of England”Man of England, wherefore ploughFor the lords who lay ye low?Never seek to tell thy love,Love that never told can be.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them.Cannon in front of them,Volleyd and thunderdFor the moon never beams without bringing me dreamsOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;And the stars never risebut I see the bright eyesOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;And so all the night-tide, I lie down by the sideOf my darling, my life and my bride,In the sepulcher there by the seaIn her tomb by the side of the sea.The black bands came overThe Alps and their snow ByronThe cumbrous elements earth, flood, air, fire MiltonLet me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments.Shakespeare, 116Loves not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickles compass come.ShakespeareRich the treasure, sweat the pleasure.Dryden,Alexanders FeastUpon His Departure Hence Thus I Pass by And die As one Unknown And gone Im made A shade And laid Ith grave There have My cave Where tell I dwell Farewell. Robert Herrick (17th century)The trumpet of a prophecy! O wind,If winter comes, can spring befarbehind?Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West WindI come from haunts of coot and hern,I make a sudden sallyAnd sparkle out among the fern,To bicker down a valley.Alfred Tennyson, The BrookWho has seen the wind?Neither Inor you.But when the leaves hang tremblingThe wind is passing through.Who has seen the wind?Neither you nor IBut when the trees bow down their headsThe wind is passing by!When I heard the Learnd AstronomerWhen I heard the learnd astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in thelecture-room,How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;Till rising and gliding out, I wanderd off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Lookd up in perfect silence at the stars.Walt WhitmanListen! You hear the grating roarOfpebbles 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.Matthew Arnold, Dover BeachLove at First SightTheyre both convincedthat a sudden passion joined them.Such certainty is beautiful,but uncertainty is more beautiful still.Since theyd never met before, theyre surethat thered been nothing between them.But whats the word from the streets, staircases, hallwaysperhaps theyve passed each other a million times?I want to ask themif they dont remembera moment face to facein some revolving door?perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?but I know the answer.No, they dont rememberTheyd be amazed to hearthat Chance has been toying with themnow for years.Not quite ready yetto become their Destiny,it pushed them close, drove them apart,it barred their path,stifling a laugh,and then leaped aside.There were signs and signals,even if they couldnt read them yet.Perhaps three years agoor just last Tuesdaya certain leaf flutteredfrom one shoulder to another?Something was dropped and then picked up.Who knows, maybe the ball that vanishedinto childhoods thicket?There were doorknobs and doorbellswhere one touch had covered anotherbeforehand.Suitcases checked and standing side by side.One night, perhaps, the same dream,grown hazy by morning.Every beginningis only a sequel, after all,and the book of eventsis always open halfway through.Heart, We Will Forget Him!Heart! We will forget him!You and Itonight!You may forget the warmth he gaveI will forget the light!When you have done, pray tell meThat I may straight begin!Haste! lest while youre laggingI remember him!Emily Dickinson一剪梅红藕香残玉簟秋，轻解罗裳，独上兰舟。云中谁寄锦书来？雁字回时，月满西楼。花自飘零水自流。一种相思，两处闲愁。此情无计可消除。才下眉头，却上心头。（宋）清照To the Tune of YijianmeiRed lotus scent fades, mat feels autumn cold;Unlace my gauze robe, I alone step on the boat;Who can bring his letter on silk through clouds?When courier geese return, West chamber th moon would fold.Water has to flow, flowers fade and float;One lovesickness ties two sorrow places remote;This feeling has no way to be repelled;Once off my eyebrows, upon my heart it would hold.I dont mind eelsExcept at mealsAnd the way they feelsOgden NashLook at the stars! Look, look up at the skies!O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there.Gerald Manley Hopkins, The Starlight NightI slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,Among my skimming swallows;Alfred Tennyson, The BrookFive miles meandering with a mazy motionThrough wood and dale the sacred river ran,Then reached the caverns measureless to man,And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:S.T. Coleridge, Kubla KhanThe Scian and the Teian muse,The heros harp, the lovers lute,Have found the fame your shore refuse.George Byron, The Isles of GreeceWherefore feed and clothe and save,From the cradle to the grave,Those ungrateful drones who wouldDrain you sweat nay drink your blood?Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broachd is boiling bloody breast; Shakespeare, Midsummer NightNothing is so beautiful as springWhen weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush ;G.M. HopkinsDo not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words have forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.At once a voice arose among The bleak twigs overheadIn a full-hearted evensongOf joy illimited.Thomas Hardy, The Darkling ThrustA boys will is the winds willAnd the thoughts of youth are long long thoughts.Wadsworth Longfellow, My Lost YouthHave mercy, swete herte myn, Chriseyde!And if that, in the wordes that I seydeBe any wrong, I wol no more trespace;晚春草树知春不久归，百般红紫斗芳菲。花榆英无才思，唯解漫天作雪飞。愈Sometimes when Im lonely,Dont know why,Keep thinking I wont be lonelyBy and by.Langston Hughs, HopeMy Papas Waltz The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mothers countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt,T