英语诗歌的特点是短小精悍,语言简练,注重押韵,具有丰富的想象力,是英语文学中的瑰宝。小编精心收集了有关大学英文诗歌，供大家欣赏学习!

有关大学英文诗歌篇1

The Subalterns

by Thomas Hardy

I

"Poor wanderer，" said the leaden sky，

"I fain would lighten thee，

But there are laws in force on high

Which say it must not be."

II

"I would not freeze thee， shorn one，" cried

The North， "knew I but how

To warm my breath， to slack my stride;

But I am ruled as thou."

III

"To-morrow I attack thee， wight，"

Said Sickness. "Yet I swear

I bear thy little ark no spite，

But am bid enter there."

IV

"Come hither， Son，" I heard Death say;

"I did not will a grave

Should end thy pilgrimage to-day，

But I， too， am a slave!"

V

We smiled upon each other then，

And life to me had less

Of that fell look it wore ere when

They owned their passiveness.

有关大学英文诗歌篇2

the suicide kid

by Charles Bukowski

I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed.

but all I could do was to get drunk again.

worse， the bar patrons even ended up liking me.

there I was trying to get pushed over the dark edge

and I ended up with free drinks

while somewhere else some poor son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital bed，

tubes sticking out all over him

as he fought like hell to live.

nobody would help me die as the drinks kept coming，

as the next day waited for me with its steel clamps，

its stinking anonymity，

its incogitant attitude.

death doesn't always come running when you call it，

not even if you call it from a shining castle

or from an ocean liner

or from the best bar

on earth (or the worst)。

such impertinence only makes the gods hesitate and delay.

ask me： I'm 72.

有关大学英文诗歌篇3

The River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter

by Ezra Pound

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead

I played about the front gate， pulling flowers.

You came by on bamboo stilts， playing horse，

You walked about my seat， playing with blue plums.

And we went on living in the village of Chokan：

Two small people， without dislike or suspicion.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.

I never laughed， being bashful.

Lowering my head， I looked at the wall.

Called to， a thousand times， I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling，

I desired my dust to be mingled with yours

Forever and forever and forever.

Why should I climb the look out?

At sixteen you departed，

You went into far Ku-to-yen， by the river of swirling eddies，

And you have been gone five months.

The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

You dragged your feet when you went out.

By the gate now， the moss is grown， the different mosses，

Too deep to clear them away!

The leaves fall early this autumn， in wind.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August

Over the grass in the West garden;

They hurt me. I grow older.

If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang，

Please let me know beforehand，

And I will come out to meet you

As far as Cho-fu-Sa.

有关大学英文诗歌篇4

The Return

by Frances Richey

What do you say when you've forgotten

how the grass smells，

married to the dark

soil crumbling in your hands?

When the sun makes a bed for you to lie in?

When a voice you've never heard

has missed you，

singing down your bones——

it's taken so long to get here.

Now I'm breathing in the mountains

as if I'd never left.

And when I go inside

I'm surprised to see a lime green worm

has landed on my shorts，

inching his way across a strange white country.

He stops and rises，

leaning out of himself——

a tiny periscope

peering from the glow of the underdream

where there are no symbols for death.

He looks around.

I place my index finger

at the tip of what I guess to be his head，

though I don't see an eye or an ear，

or the infinitesimal feet

as he crawls across my palm——

a warmer planet.

Lately I've wondered

what hand guides my way when I am lost.

I can't feel him

though I see him rise again，

survey the future， flat

and broken into five dead ends.

I curl my fingers to make a cup

and carry him like a blessing to the garden——

What will happen next is a mystery——

to be so light in the world， to leave no tracks.

有关大学英文诗歌篇5

The Routine Things Around the House

by Stephen Dunn

When Mother died

I thought： now I'll have a death poem.

That was unforgivable

yet I've since forgiven myself

as sons are able to do

who've been loved by their mothers.

I stared into the coffin

knowing how long she'd live，

how many lifetimes there are

in the sweet revisions of memory.

It's hard to know exactly

how we ease ourselves back from sadness，

but I remembered when I was twelve，

1951， before the world

unbuttoned its blouse.

I had asked my mother (I was trembling)

if I could see her breasts

and she took me into her room

without embarrassment or coyness

and I stared at them，

afraid to ask for more.

Now， years later， someone tells me

Cancers who've never had mother love

are doomed and I， a Cancer，

feel blessed again. What luck

to have had a mother

who showed me her breasts

when girls my age were developing

their separated countries，

what luck

she didn't doom me

with too much or too little.

Had I asked to touch，

perhaps to suck them，

what would she have done?

Mother， dead woman

who I think permits me

to love women easily，

this poem

is dedicated to where

we stopped， to the incompleteness

that was sufficient

and to how you buttoned up，

began doing the routine things

around the house.