关于秋天的优美英文诗句
秋天的云像位魔术大师，一会儿变成一对恋人拥抱在一起，一会儿变成一群小动物们快乐地唱歌跳舞，一会儿变成一条条小鱼。学习啦小编整理了关于秋天的优美英文诗句，欢迎阅读!
关于秋天的优美英文诗句篇一
晚秋的情趣
By Adrienne Rich (女)艾德里安娜。里奇
The river-fog will do for privacy
on the low road a breath
here， there， a cloudiness floating on the black top
sunflower heads turned black and bowed
the seas of corn a stubble
the old routes flowing north， if not to freedom
no human figure now in sight
(with whom do you believe your lot is cast?)
only the functional figure of the scarecrow
the cut corn， ground to shreds， heaped in a shape
like an Indian burial mound
a haunted-looking， ordinary thing
The work of winter starts fermenting in my head
how with the hands of a lover or a midwife
to hold back till the time is right
force nothing， be unforced
accept no giant miracles of growth
by counterfeit light
trust roots， allow the days to shrink
give credence to these slender means
wait without sadness and with grave impatience
here in the north where winter has a meaning
where the heaped colors suddenly go ashen
where nothing is promised
learn what an underground journey
has been， might have to be; speak in a winter code
let fog， sleet， translate; wind， carry them.
关于秋天的优美英文诗句篇二
A Fall Song
by Ellen Robena Field
Golden and red trees
Nod to the soft breeze,
As it whispers, "Winter is near;"
And the brown nuts fall
At the wind's loud call,
For this is the Fall of the year.
Good-by, sweet flowers!
Through bright Summer hours
You have filled our hearts with cheer
We shall miss you so,
And yet you must go,
For this is the Fall of the year.
Now the days grow cold,
As the year grows old,
And the meadows are brown and sere;
Brave robin redbreast
Has gone from his nest,
For this is the Fall of the year.
I do softly pray
At the close of day,
That the little children, so dear,
May as purely grow
As the fleecy snow
That follows the Fall of the year.
关于秋天的优美英文诗句篇三
To Autumn
by John Keats J.
1
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
2
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Dows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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