朗誦可以有效地培養(yǎng)對(duì)語(yǔ)言詞匯細(xì)致入微的體味能力,以及確立口語(yǔ)表述形式的自我鑒別能力。因此要想成為口語(yǔ)表述與交際的高手,就不能漠視朗誦。下面是由帶來(lái)的優(yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦，歡迎閱讀!
【篇一】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!
像一個(gè)衰老的父親高興去看
活潑的兒子表演青春的伎倆，
同樣，我，受了命運(yùn)的惡毒摧殘，
從你的精誠(chéng)和美德找到力量。
因?yàn)?，無(wú)論美、門(mén)第、財(cái)富或才華，
或這一切，或其一，或多于這一切，
在你身上登峰造極，我都把
我的愛(ài)在你這個(gè)寶藏上嫁接。
那么，我并不殘廢、貧窮、被輕藐，
既然這種種幻影都那么充實(shí)，
使我從你的富裕得滿足，并倚靠
你的光榮的一部分安然度日。
看，生命的至寶，我暗祝你盡有：
既有這心愿，我便十倍地?zé)o憂。
【篇二】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
Looking for Omar
by E. Ethelbert Miller
I'm in the school bathroom
washing my hands without
soap but I'm still washing my hands.
I turn the water off
and look for a paper towel
but paper towels have been gone
since the first day of school
and it's June now.
I start to leave the bathroom
with my wet hands but then
the big boys come in talking
loud and cussing like they
rap stars or have new sneakers.
I hear the one named Pinto
talking about how someone
should get Omar after school
since he's the only Muslim they know.
Pinto talks with an accent
like he's new in the neighborhood too.
I don't have to ask him
what he's talking about
since everybody is talking
about the Towers and how they
ain't there no more.
My momma said it's like a woman losing both
breasts to cancer and my daddy
was talking at the dinner table
about how senseless violence is
and Mrs. Gardner next door lost
two tall boys to drive-bys
Bullets flying into both boys heads
making them crumble too.
Everybody around here is
filled with fear and craziness
and now Pinto and the big boys
thinking about doing something bad.
I stare at my wet hands
dripping water on my shoes
and wonder if I should run
and tell Omar or just run.
I feel like I'm trapped
in the middle of one of those
Bible stories but it ain't Sunday.
I hear my Momma's voice saying
Boy， always remember to wash
your hands but always remember
you can't wash your hands from everything.
【篇三】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
Late Night Ode
by J. D. McClatchy
It's over， love. Look at me pushing fifty now，
Hair like grave-grass growing in both ears，
The piles and boggy prostate， the crooked penis，
The sour taste of each day's first lie，
And that recurrent dream of years ago pulling
A swaying bead-chain of moonlight，
Of slipping between the cool sheets of dark Along a body like my own， but blameless.
What good's my cut-glass conversation now，
Now I'm so effortlessly vulgar and sad?
You get from life what you can shake from it?
For me， it's g and t's all day and CNN.
Try the blond boychick lawyer， entry level
At eighty grand， who pouts about the overtime，
Keeps Evian and a beeper in his locker at the gym，
And hash in tinfoil under the office fern.
There's your hound from heaven， with buccaneer
Curls and perfumed war-paint on his nipples.
His answering machine always has room for one more Slurred， embarrassed call from you-know-who.
Some nights I've laughed so hard the tears Won't stop. Look at me now. Why now?
I long ago gave up pretending to believe Anyone's memory will give as good as it gets.
So why these stubborn tears? And why do I dream
Almost every night of holding you again，
Or at least of diving after you， my long-gone，
Through the bruised unbalanced waves?
【篇一】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!
像一個(gè)衰老的父親高興去看
活潑的兒子表演青春的伎倆，
同樣，我，受了命運(yùn)的惡毒摧殘，
從你的精誠(chéng)和美德找到力量。
因?yàn)?，無(wú)論美、門(mén)第、財(cái)富或才華，
或這一切，或其一，或多于這一切，
在你身上登峰造極，我都把
我的愛(ài)在你這個(gè)寶藏上嫁接。
那么，我并不殘廢、貧窮、被輕藐，
既然這種種幻影都那么充實(shí)，
使我從你的富裕得滿足，并倚靠
你的光榮的一部分安然度日。
看，生命的至寶，我暗祝你盡有：
既有這心愿，我便十倍地?zé)o憂。
【篇二】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
Looking for Omar
by E. Ethelbert Miller
I'm in the school bathroom
washing my hands without
soap but I'm still washing my hands.
I turn the water off
and look for a paper towel
but paper towels have been gone
since the first day of school
and it's June now.
I start to leave the bathroom
with my wet hands but then
the big boys come in talking
loud and cussing like they
rap stars or have new sneakers.
I hear the one named Pinto
talking about how someone
should get Omar after school
since he's the only Muslim they know.
Pinto talks with an accent
like he's new in the neighborhood too.
I don't have to ask him
what he's talking about
since everybody is talking
about the Towers and how they
ain't there no more.
My momma said it's like a woman losing both
breasts to cancer and my daddy
was talking at the dinner table
about how senseless violence is
and Mrs. Gardner next door lost
two tall boys to drive-bys
Bullets flying into both boys heads
making them crumble too.
Everybody around here is
filled with fear and craziness
and now Pinto and the big boys
thinking about doing something bad.
I stare at my wet hands
dripping water on my shoes
and wonder if I should run
and tell Omar or just run.
I feel like I'm trapped
in the middle of one of those
Bible stories but it ain't Sunday.
I hear my Momma's voice saying
Boy， always remember to wash
your hands but always remember
you can't wash your hands from everything.
【篇三】?jī)?yōu)秀英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌朗誦
Late Night Ode
by J. D. McClatchy
It's over， love. Look at me pushing fifty now，
Hair like grave-grass growing in both ears，
The piles and boggy prostate， the crooked penis，
The sour taste of each day's first lie，
And that recurrent dream of years ago pulling
A swaying bead-chain of moonlight，
Of slipping between the cool sheets of dark Along a body like my own， but blameless.
What good's my cut-glass conversation now，
Now I'm so effortlessly vulgar and sad?
You get from life what you can shake from it?
For me， it's g and t's all day and CNN.
Try the blond boychick lawyer， entry level
At eighty grand， who pouts about the overtime，
Keeps Evian and a beeper in his locker at the gym，
And hash in tinfoil under the office fern.
There's your hound from heaven， with buccaneer
Curls and perfumed war-paint on his nipples.
His answering machine always has room for one more Slurred， embarrassed call from you-know-who.
Some nights I've laughed so hard the tears Won't stop. Look at me now. Why now?
I long ago gave up pretending to believe Anyone's memory will give as good as it gets.
So why these stubborn tears? And why do I dream
Almost every night of holding you again，
Or at least of diving after you， my long-gone，
Through the bruised unbalanced waves?