美文,是文质兼美的文章。引导学生读好读美,诵读悟情积累。学生对美的体验和领悟,来自感觉的整体性,一定要从语言材料的氛围中去获得。小编分享有关春天的英语美文，希望可以帮助大家!

有关春天的英语美文：spring

Recovery of all things spring, spring rain Sasa it like a fluttering gently footsteps of the painter, a Buliu Shen it has to every corner of the earth printed on a color.

春天万物复苏，春雨飘飘洒洒它像一个脚步轻轻的画家，一不留神它已经把大地每一个角落都印上了色彩.

Field, flower garden, the forest have a girl left behind traces of the spring, she decorated in earth Huanran, a new, beautiful and peaceful

田野上,花圃上,森林里都有着春姑娘留下足迹,她把大地装饰得涣然一新,美丽,祥和

Lovely girl-chun, strode the world came to light steps, and that picture will be a very lively scene in all directions then came, the whole world like a long sleep just wakened up.

可爱的春姑娘，迈着轻盈的步子来到人间，那一片生机的景象便随之来到四面八方，整个世界像刚从一个漫长的睡梦中苏醒过来。

fields confusing wheat green, I looked boundless, as if the green wave. That golden wild flowers, in the Green Wave in flash.

田野上，麦苗返青，一望无边，仿佛绿色的波浪。那金黄色的野菜花，在绿波中闪光。

Spring makes everything young again except man.

春天使万物重返青春，除了人之外。

A single flower does not make a spring.

一花独放不是春，百花齐放春满园。

Spring returns to the earth. (或：Spring is here again.)

大地回春。

Spring makes everything young again except man.

春天使万物重返青春，除了人之外。

有关春天的英语美文：春天来了Spring is Here

In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.

在春天这个季节里，当天朗气清的时候，如果不到室外观赏大自然的丰饶，并分享天地的喜悦，就是对它的一种伤害和亵渎。

Today, look at the blue sky, hear the grass growing beneath your feet, inhale the scent of spring, let the fruits of the earth linger on your tongue, reach out and embrace those you love. Ask Spirit to awaken your awareness to the sacredness of your sensory perceptions.

What a miracle it is. No matter how long the winter, how hard the frost or how deep the snow, Nature triumphs. No season is awaited so eagerly or welcomed so warmly as spring…Each year I am astonished by the wealth of flowers the season gives us: the subtlety of the wild primroses and violets, the rich palette of crocus in the parks, tall soldier tulips and proud trumpeting daffodils and narcissi.

Picture this: The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts of spring; the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with earthy smells, and the grass under foot had a reflection of blue sky in it.

Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.

今天，仰望蓝天，聆听小草在脚下生长，呼吸春天的气息，细细品尝大地的果实，然后放开双手拥抱你的所爱。让上帝唤醒你那神圣的知觉。

这真是一个奇迹!无论冬天多么漫长，无论霜雪多么严寒，自然总能获胜。没有哪个季节像春天那么让人翘首企盼……每年春花的烂漫总让我惊讶不已：野生报春花和紫罗兰的娇嫩，公园里藏红花的多彩，还有高大的郁金香和傲然的水仙花。

想象这样一幅图景：温暖的春风弥漫着泥土的气息，阳光照射着每一寸土壤，土壤把阳光染成深红色。空气中渗透着泥土的清香，脚下的小草与头上的蓝天遥相呼应。

每个春天都是独一无二的，是自然界永恒的奇迹。

有关春天的英语美文：A Promise of Spring

Early in the spring, about a month before my grandpa's stroke, I began walking for an hour every afternoon. Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa. At eighty-six, Grandpa was still quite a gardener, so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.

I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was eager to get Grandpa's advice. I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted — a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.

It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden blaze of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side. The whole family rallied to Grandpa. We all spent many hours by his side. Some days his eyes were eloquent — laughing at our reported mishaps, listening alertly, revealing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself. There were days, too, when he slept most of the time, overcome with the weight of his approaching death.

As the months passed, I watched the growing earth with Grandpa's eyes. Each time I was with him, I gave him a garden report. He listened, gripping my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had. But he could not answer my questions. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade, and die before I knew their names.

Grandpa's illness held him through the spring and on, week by week, through summer. I began spending hours at the local nursery, studying and choosing seeds and plants. It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa's garden and give them humble starts in my own garden. I discovered Sweet William, which I had admired for years in Grandpa's garden without knowing its name. And I planted it in his honor.

As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa's side, some quiet truths emerged. I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that were always bloom; he kept a full bed of roses in his garden. But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights. Not every nook of his garden was constantly in bloom. There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.

I came to see, too, that Grandpa's garden mirrored his life. He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest. But along with his hard work, Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season, each change. We often teased him about his life history. He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work, and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he'd ever taken.

In July, Grandpa worsened. One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside. He was glad to have me there, and reached out his hand to pull me close.

I told Grandpa what I had learned — that few flowers last from April to November. Some of the most beautiful bloom for only a month at most. To really enjoy a garden, you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden, each in its own season.

His eyes listened to every word. Then, another discovery: "If I want a garden like yours, Grandpa, I'm going to have to work." His grin laughed at me, and his eyes teased me.

"Grandpa, in your life right now the chrysanthemums are in bloom. Chrysanthemums and roses." Tears clouded both our eyes. Neither of us feared this last flower of fall, but the wait for spring seems longest in November. We knew how much we would miss each other.

Sitting there, I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony inside both of us. He had never spoken of his testimony to me, but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew. I knew he knew.

"Grandpa," I began — and his grip tightened as if he knew what I was going to say — "I want you to know that I have a testimony. I know the Savior lives. I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I love the Restoration and joy in it." The steadiness in Grandpa's eyes told how much he felt it too. "I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true, Grandpa. Every part of me bears this witness."

"Grandpa," I added quietly, "I know our Father in Heaven loves you." Unbidden, unexpected, the Spirit bore comforting, poignant testimony to me of our Father's love for my humble, quiet Grandpa.

A tangible sense of Heavenly Father's compassionate awareness of Grandpa's suffering surrounded us and held us. It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me — only tears of gratitude and humility, tears of comfort.

Grandpa and I wept together.

It was the end of August when Grandpa died, the end of summer. As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa's funeral, I slipped away to Grandpa's garden and walked with my memories of columbine and Sweet William. Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now, and some baby's breath in another corner.

On impulse, I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby's breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral. When they saw it, friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa's flowers there. We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.

The October after Grandpa's death, I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs, snowdrops, crocuses, and bluebells. Each bulb was a comfort to me, a love sent to Grandpa, a promise of spring.