美国语文:英汉双语全译本(第5册)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)


发布时间:2020-10-12 01:06:19

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作者:(美)威廉·H·麦加菲(Mcguffey W.H.)

出版社:上海交通大学出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

美国语文:英汉双语全译本(第5册)

美国语文:英汉双语全译本(第5册)试读:

Lesson 1 The Good Reader|第1课 优秀的读者

It is told of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, that, as he was seated one day in his private room, a written petition was brought to him with the request that it should be immediately read.The King had just returned from hunting, and the glare of the sun, or some other cause, had so dazzled his eyes that he found it difficult to make out a single word of the writing.

His private secretary happened to be absent; and the soldier who brought the petition could not read.There was a page, or favorite boy servant, waiting in the hall, and upon him the King called.The page was a son of one of the noblemen of the court, but proved to be a very poor reader.

In the first place, he did not articulate distinctly.He huddled his words together in the utterance, as if they were syllables of one long word, which he must get through with as speedily as possible.His pronunciation was bad, and he did not modulate his voice so as to bring out the meaning of what he read.Every sentence was uttered with a dismal monotony of voice, as if it did not differ in any respect from that which preceded it.

"Stop!" said the King, impatiently."Is it an auctioneer's list of goods to be sold that you are hurrying over? Send your companion to me." Another page who stood at the door now entered, and to him the King gave the petition.The second page began by hemming and clearing his throat in such an affected manner that the King jokingly asked him whether he had not slept in the public garden, with the gate open, the night before.

The second page had a good share of self-conceit, however, and so was not greatly confused by the King's jest.He determined that he would avoid the mistake which his comrade had made.So he commenced reading the petition slowly and with great formality, emphasizing every word, and prolonging the articulation of every syllable.But his manner was so tedious that the King cried out, "Stop!are you reciting a Lesson in the elementary sounds? Out of the room!But no: stay!Send me that little girl who is sitting there by the fountain."

The girl thus pointed out by the King was a daughter of one of the laborers employed by the royal gardener; and she had come to help her father weed the flower beds.It chanced that, like many of the poor people in Prussia, she had received a good education.She was somewhat alarmed when she found herself in the King's presence, but took courage when the King told her that he only wanted her to read for him, as his eyes were weak.

Now, Ernestine (for this was the name of the little girl) was fond of reading aloud, and often many of the neighbors would assemble at her father's house to hear her; those who could not read themselves would come to her, also, with their letters from distant friends or children, and she thus formed the habit of reading various sorts of handwriting promptly and well.

The King gave her the petition, and she rapidly glanced through the opening lines to get some idea of what it was about.As she read, her eyes began to glisten, and her breast to heave."What is the matter?" asked the King; "don't you know how to read?" "Oh, yes!sire," she replied, addressing him with the title usually applied to him: "I will now read it, if you please."

The two pages wore about to leave the room."Remain," said the King.The little girl began to read the petition.It was from a poor widow, whose only son had been drafted to serve in the army, although his health was delicate and his pursuits had been such as to unfit him for military life.His father had been killed in battle, and the son had a strong desire to become a portrait painter.

The writer told her story in a simple, concise manner, that carried to the heart a belief of its truth; and Ernestine read it with so much feeling, and with an articulation so just, in tones so pure and distinct, that when she had finished, the King, into whose eyes the tears had started, exclaimed, "Oh!now I understand what it is all about; but I might never have known, certainly I never should have felt, its meaning had I trusted to these young gentlemen, whom I now dismiss from my service for one year, advising them to occupy their time in learning to read."

"As for you, my young lady," continued the King, "I know you will ask no better reward for your trouble than the pleasure of carrying to this poor widow my order for her son's immediate discharge.Let me see whether you can write as well as you can read.Take this pen, and write as I dictate." He then dictated an order, which Ernestine wrote, and he signed.Calling one of his guards, he bade him go with the girl and see that the order was obeyed.

How much happiness was Ernestine the means of bestowing through her good elocution, united to the happy circumstance that brought it to the knowledge of the King!First, there were her poor neighbors, to whom she could give instruction and entertainment.Then, there was the poor widow who sent the petition, and who not only regained her son, but received through Ernestine an order for him to paint the King's likeness; so that the poor boy soon rose to great distinction, and had more orders than he could attend to.Words could not express his gratitude, and that of his mother, to the little girl.

And Ernestine had, moreover, the satisfaction of aiding her father to rise in the world, so that he became the King's chief gardener.The King did not forget her, but had her well educated at his own expense.As for the two pages, she was indirectly the means of doing them good, also; for, ashamed of their bad reading, they commenced studying in earnest, till they overcame the faults that had offended the King.Both finally rose to distinction, one as a lawyer, and the other as a statesman; and they owed their advancement in life chiefly to their good elocution.

有一天,普鲁士国王腓特烈大帝坐在自己的私人房间,卫兵给他送来了一封请愿书,并且需要他立刻审阅。国王刚打完猎回来,不知是太阳光的灼伤还是其他原因,他感到头晕目眩,完全看不清请愿书上面的字。

他的私人秘书恰好不在,那个给他送来请愿书的卫兵又不识字。还好,这里还有一个男侍从,也可以称他为小男仆,他在大厅等候国王,国王把他叫了进来。这个男侍从是一位宫廷贵族的儿子,但是他的阅读能力非常糟糕。

首先,他不能清晰地读出上面的字。他吐字含糊,有些词的音节听起来应该很长,可他总是急匆匆地胡乱朗读出来。他的发音也不好,不能通过调整语调来表达请愿书的真正含义。他对每一句话都用令人沮丧的呆板语调读出来,好像句子之间没有任何差别。“停!”国王不耐烦地说,“你读的是拍卖清单吗?那么着急干嘛?把你的同伴带来。”于是从门口进来另一个男侍从,国王把请愿书递给了他。第二个男侍从在读请愿书之前,很不自然地清了清嗓子。国王开玩笑地问他,昨晚是不是虽然没在公园过夜,但睡觉时大门敞开着呢!

不过这个男侍从十分自负,国王的嘲笑并没有打乱他的思路,他决定避免犯自己同伴之前犯过的错误。于是,他开始用十分正式的口吻,慢慢地读起请愿书来。每一个字他都会着重强调,并且为了听上去更加清楚,他把所有的音节都拉长了。但是,他的读法太沉闷,以至于国王大吼道:“够了!你是在模仿小学生背课文吗?给我滚出去!不,等等!你去把那个坐在喷泉边上的小女孩给我带来。”

国王所说的那个小女孩,是皇家园林一个劳工的女儿,她是来帮父亲清除花坛里的杂草的。和许多普鲁士贫苦家庭的孩子一样,她有幸接受了正规教育。当她站在国王面前的时候,有点受宠若惊,但是当她知道国王由于眼睛还没有恢复,只是想让她给自己读一封请愿书时,她才稍稍鼓起了勇气。

欧内斯廷(小女孩的名字)喜欢大声朗读,她的邻居经常聚集到她家来听她读书;那些不识字的人,收到远方朋友和孩子寄来的信件后,会来找她帮他们读信。因此她养成了一个习惯,能又快又好地读出任何笔迹的信。

国王把请愿书给了她,她快速看了一下开头,想弄明白这封请愿书里讲了什么。当她看信的时候,眼中泪光闪烁,呼吸也开始更有节奏地起伏。“怎么了?”国王问,“难道你不知道怎么读吗?”“不,我当然知道!陛下,”她答道,并且很有礼貌地对国王说,“如果可以的话,我就开始读了。”

那两个男侍从想要离开房间。“你们别走。”国王说。女孩开始读请愿书。这封请愿书是一个寡妇写的,她唯一的儿子被抓去参军了,尽管他身体很虚弱,并且他的追求和军旅生活有点格格不入。他的父亲死于战场,而他的儿子则强烈渴望成为一名肖像画家。

这个寡妇用简洁质朴的语言讲了她的遭遇,真切的情感令人动容。欧内斯廷带着深切的感情读着请愿书,吐字清晰,语调纯正,抑扬顿挫。当她读完时,国王眼里流出了泪水,他惊呼道:“噢!我现在知道这封请愿书的内容了。但是,如果听信那些年轻贵族的话,我或许永远不知道真相;准确地说,我将永远不会像现在这样感受到这封信的深刻含义。现在,我要让这些家伙停职一年,好好学习如何朗读。”“至于你,我的孩子,”国王继续说,“我知道你肯定想把寡妇的儿子调离战场,让他们母子团聚。那么现在让我看看,你的书写功底是否和你的朗诵一样出色。拿起笔,写下我的口谕。”然后,他口述命令,欧内斯廷写下来,国王签了字。他叫来一个卫兵,要求他带着这封签过字的信和欧内斯廷去传达和执行他的旨意。

欧内斯廷通过感情真挚的朗读,把请愿书的内容传达给了国王,因此产生了皆大欢喜的结局。首先是她的邻居们,她能够给予他们帮助和指导;然后是那位写请愿书的寡妇,她不但和儿子团聚了,还通过欧内斯廷得到了国王的旨意,要求她儿子给自己画肖像。她儿子很快成为家喻户晓的画家,请他画肖像的订单多得让他忙不过来。因此,他和他母亲都无法用言语来表达对欧内斯廷的感激。

而且,欧内斯廷的父亲一跃成为国王的御用园丁,在世界园林界获得了声誉,这让小姑娘非常自豪。国王也没有忘记她,出钱资助她继续深造。至于那两个男侍从,欧内斯廷也间接帮助了他们——他们为自己糟糕的阅读感到羞耻,从此开始专心学习阅读,直到克服当初冒犯国王的错误。后来,这两个男侍从都成了名人,他们中的一个当了律师,另一个成了政治家,他们都把自己取得的成就归功于良好的演讲能力。

Lesson 2 The Bluebell|第2课 蓝色风铃草

There is a story I have heard—

A poet learned it of a bird,

And kept its music every word—

A story of a dim ravine,

O'er which the towering tree tops lean,

With one blue rift of sky between;

And there, two thousand years ago,

A little flower as white as snow

Swayed in the silence to and fro.

Day after day, with longing eye,

The floweret watched the narrow sky,

And fleecy clouds that floated by.

And through the darkness, night by night,

One gleaming star would climb the height,

And cheer the lonely floweret's sight.

Thus, watching the blue heavens afar,

And the rising of its favorite star,

A slow change came—but not to mar;

For softly o'er its petals white

There crept a blueness, like the light

Of skies upon a summer night;

And in its chalice, I am told,

The bonny bell was formed to hold

A tiny star that gleamed like gold.

Now, little people, sweet and true,

I find a lesson here for you

Writ in the floweret's hell of blue:

The patient child whose watchful eye

Strives after all things pure and high,

Shall take their image by and by.

我曾听过一个故事——

一个诗人学习他的小鸟,

并遵循乐曲的每个音符——

在一个幽暗的峡谷里,

一棵高耸的斜树梢上,

天际间有道蓝色裂痕;

在那里,二千年前,

一朵洁白如雪的花

静静地来回摇摆。

一天又一天,小花

渴望的眼神看着长天

和飘过的白云。

黑暗中,夜复一夜,

一颗星星爬到高处,

在孤独的小花面前欢呼。

啊,看远处的蓝天,

看最喜欢的星星升起

缓慢变化——充满虔诚。

雪白的花瓣

悄然升起,一抹亮光

在夏夜的天空伸展;

在这光环中,我知道

漂亮的小风铃是为了

握住闪烁如金的星星。

现在,孩子们,

在这蓝色风铃草里

藏着甜蜜而真实的故事:

孩子专注的目光

凝视纯洁高尚的灵魂,

他们将获取精神的力量。

Lesson 3 The Gentle Hand|第3课 温柔的手

Timothy S.Arthur (b.1809, d.1885) was born near Newburgh, N.Y., but passed most of his life at Baltimore and Philadelphia.His opportunities for good schooling were quite limited, and he may be considered a self-educated man.He was the author of more than a hundred volumes, principally novels of a domestic and moral tone, and of many shorter tales—magazine articles, etc."Ten Nights in a Barroom," and "Three Years in a Mantrap," are among his best known works.

When and where it matters not now to relate—but once upon a time, as I was passing through a thinly peopled district of country, night came down upon me almost unawares.Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the village toward which my steps were directed, until a late hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night's lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself.

Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort.The house stood within an inclosure, and a short distance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet.

Turning aside, and passing through the ill-hung gate, I approached the dwelling.Slowly the gate swung on its wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the porch in front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival.

A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an immense dog loomed in the doorway.At the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken.

"Go in, Tiger," said the girl, not in a voice of authority, yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed; and, as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away and disappeared within the dwelling.

"Who's that?" A rough voice asked the question; and now a heavy-looking man took the dog's place in the door.

"How far is it to G—?" I asked, not deeming it best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting place for the night.

"To G—!" growled the man, but not so harshly as at first."It's good six miles from here."

"A long distance; and I'm a stranger and on foot," said I."If you can make room for me until morning, I will be very thankful."

I saw the girl's hand move quickly up his arm, until it rested on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer.

"Come in.We'll try what can be done for you." There was a change in the man's voice that made me wonder.I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk fire.Before the fire sat two stout lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes, with no very welcome greeting.A middle-aged woman was standing at a table, and two children were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor.

"A stranger, mother," said the man who had given me so rude a greeting at the door; "and he wants us to let him stay all night."

The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments, and then replied coldly, "We don't keep a public house."

"I'm aware of that, ma'am," said I; "but night has overtaken me, and it's a long way yet to G—."

"Too far for a tired man to go on foot," said the master of the house, kindly, "so it's no use talking about it, mother; we must give him a bed."

So unobtrusively that I scarce noticed the movement, the girl had drawn to her mother's side.What she said to her I did not hear, for the brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed, as she spoke, one small, fair hand rested on the woman's hand.

Was there magic in that touch? The woman's repulsive aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she said, "Yes, it's a long way to G—.I guess we can find a place for him."

Many times more during that evening, did I observe the magic power of that hand and voice—the one gentle yet potent as the other.On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was preparing to take my departure when my host informed me that if I would wait for half an hour he would give me a ride in his wagon to G—, as business required him to go there.I was very well pleased to accept of the invitation.

In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the road before the house, and I was invited to get in.I noticed the horse as a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubborn endurance.As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family came to the door to see us off.

"Dick!" said the farmer in a peremptory voice, giving the rein a quick jerk as he spoke.But Dick moved not a step."Dick!you vagabond!get up." And the farmer's whip cracked sharply by the pony's ear.

It availed not, however, this second appeal.Dick stood firmly disobedient.Next the whip was brought down upon him with an impatient hand; but the pony only reared up a little.Fast and sharp the strokes were next dealt to the number of half a dozen.The man might as well have beaten the wagon, for all his end was gained.

A stout lad now came out into the road, and, catching Dick by the bridle, jerked him forward, using, at the same time, the customary language on such occasions, but Dick met this new ally with increased stubbornness, planting his fore feet more firmly and at a sharper angle with the ground.

The impatient boy now struck the pony on the side of the head with his clinched hand, and jerked cruelly at his bridle.It availed nothing, however; Dick was not to be wrought upon by any such arguments.

"Don't do so, John!" I turned my head as the maiden's sweet voice reached my ear.She was passing through the gate into the road, and in the next moment had taken hold of the lad and drawn him away from the animal.No strength was exerted in this; she took hold of his arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he had no thought beyond her gratification.

And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's neck, and a single low word spoken.How instantly were the tense muscles relaxed—how quickly the stubborn air vanished!

"Poor Dick!" said the maiden, as she stroked his neck lightly, or softly patted it with a childlike hand."Now, go along, you provoking fellow!" she added, in a half-chiding, yet affectionate voice, as she drew up the bridle.

The pony turned toward her, and rubbed his head against her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up his ears, he started off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had ever entered his stubborn brain.

"What a wonderful power that hand possesses!" said I, speaking to my companion, as we rode away.

He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had occasioned surprise.Then a light came into his countenance, and he said briefly, "She's good!Everybody and everything loves her."

Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was the quality of her soul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute beasts!The father's explanation was doubtless the true one.Yet have I ever since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency which lay in that maiden's magic touch.I have seen something of the same power, showing itself in the loving and the good, but never to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for want of a better name, I must still call "Gentle Hand."

蒂莫西·S.亚瑟(1809~1885年),出生于纽约的纽堡附近,但他大部分时间在巴尔的摩和费城度过。他没有接受正规的教育,自学成才。他创作了100多部作品,其中大部分是描写家庭和道德的小说,也有很多是发表在杂志上的短篇故事。《酒吧里的十个夜晚》和《陷阱中的三年》是他最知名的作品。

这件事是在什么地方、什么时间发生的也许并不重要。曾经有一天,当我走过一个人烟稀少的村子时,不知不觉天快黑了。由于是步行,我估计还需至少一个小时才能到达要去的镇子,所以我决定在第一个遇到的房子里歇脚,对付一个晚上。

暮色使地上的影子越来越深,这时我发现自己走到了一所房子附近,房子的窗户上没有窗帘,灯光从窗户上照射出来,让人感到愉快而舒适。那房子坐落在一个院子里,离我站的道路不远。

我拐了过来,穿过歪斜的栅栏门,向小屋走去。那门摇来晃去,我进去之后,门闩锁上了,不过我没有注意这些。我一直走到房前的走廊,看见那儿站着一个瘦弱的女孩,她听到门口的响动,就站在那儿等我。

关门声刚落,一串低沉、急促的狗叫声就像大门关上时的回声一样响起来。一只大狗像幽灵一样突然出现在门口。就在它要跳起的时候,一只手轻轻地抚在它蓬松的脖颈上,同时一个声音轻声响起。“进去,小虎。”女孩说道,不是用命令的口气,但是她温柔的音调却非常坚定,似乎知道它一定会服从命令。她一边说,一边用手轻轻拍狗。狗转过头,从房间消失了。“你是谁?”一个沙哑的声音问道,这时一个看起来很结实的男子出现在门口。“请问这里离G镇还有多远?”我问道,我想找个地方过夜,所以一开始还是不要说太多。“去G镇!”男子低哼一声,但是语气不像开始那么严厉,“离这儿还有整整六英里。”“还有那么远!我以前没去过那儿,而且我是步行来的,”我说,“您看我能不能在这儿住一夜,如果可以,我会不胜感激。”

我看到那个女孩的手很快移向他的手臂,伏在他的肩膀上。女孩紧紧地靠在他的身边。“进来吧,我们会尽力帮你的。”男子的声音变了,这让我感到很奇怪。我走进一间大房子,房间里点着炉火。火堆前坐着两个粗壮的小伙子,他们睡眼朦胧地看着我,并没表示欢迎。一位中年妇女站在桌子旁,两个孩子在和地板上的小猫玩。“妈妈,是一个过路的。”刚才在门口很粗鲁地和我说话的男子说道,“他希望今晚可以在这儿过夜。”

那位妇女用怀疑的目光看了我一会儿,然后冷冷地回答:“我们这里又不是旅店。”“我知道,夫人,”我说,“天太黑了,而且这里离G镇还很远。”“他很疲惫,而且步行,这儿离G镇又太远,”主人温和地说,“所以,妈妈,我们别再犹豫了,就留他住一晚吧!”

我都没注意到,那个女孩已经悄悄地走到她母亲的身边。她低声向母亲说了些什么,我没有听到,只是注意到,她在说话时把白皙的小手放在母亲的手上。这一抚摸是不是有什么魔法?妇女的态度瞬间从排斥转向欢迎,她说:“是的,离那儿太远了,我想我们可以留他住一宿。”

那天晚上,我几次都注意到这双手和这个有魔力的声音——虽然轻柔,但是对别人却有一种力量。第二天早上吃过早餐后,我正准备离开,这时主人告诉我,如果我再等半个小时,就可以搭他的马车去G镇,因为他正好有事要去那儿。我非常高兴地接受了他的好意。

半个小时后,农夫驾着马车来到屋前的路上,并请我上去。我注意到拉车的马是一匹暴烈的加拿大矮种马,它看上去非常结实。农夫坐到我身边,家里人都出来和我们告别。“迪克!”主人专横地吼了一声,同时迅速将缰绳拉了一下。但是迪克站着没动。“迪克,你这个无赖,走啊!”主人的鞭子抽在小马的耳朵上,发出响亮的声音。

尽管又喊了一声,迪克还是不动,它站在那儿,毫不驯服。农夫又不耐烦地抽了它一鞭子,可迪克只是跳了跳。主人气急败坏地连着抽打了六七下,他的力气几乎用完了,可迪克仍站着不动。

这时,一个粗壮的小伙子站在路上,他抓住迪克的马辔头,将它往前拉,还对着迪克粗鲁地叫嚷,可这会儿迪克更加倔强,它的前蹄贴着地面,站得更稳了。

失去耐心的小伙子攥起拳头击打小马的头部,但仍无济于事,看样子迪克是不会向这些方法屈服的。“不要这样,约翰!”当女孩甜美的声音传入我的耳中时,我情不自禁地扭过头去看她。她穿过大门,走到马路上,拉住小伙子,把他拖到一边,但她并没用力,只是握着小伙子的胳膊,小伙子非常顺从,他似乎只想满足她的愿望而不再多想 什么。

这会儿,那双温柔的手正抚摸小马的脖子,并对它低声说着什么,马儿紧绷的肌肉似乎突然放松下来,它那倔强的脾气也立刻消失得无影无踪。“可怜的迪克!”她说,一会儿抚摸着马的脖子,一会儿又像孩子一样轻拍着迪克。“现在,出发吧,你这个爱折腾人的家伙。”她抓起缰绳,半责备半怜爱地说。

小马转头看着女孩,它一遍又一遍地用头蹭着她的胳膊。然后,它竖起耳朵,轻快地小跑起来,就像从来没有过叛逆的情绪。“那双手,拥有的力量真神奇!”路上我对同伴说。马车跑起来了。

他看着我,似乎我的话让他感到很惊讶。他的眼睛一亮,然后简单地说了句:“她是个好孩子,我们都喜欢她。”

这就是她那神奇力量的秘密吗?她那双纤弱的小手所表现出来的精神力量,甚至可以感化粗野的牲畜。主人的解释毫无疑问是正确的,然而自始至终,我都被少女的魔力深深地感动着。我曾经见过同样充满爱意的力量,但它们都不如女孩的手那么神奇,我想不到更好的名字,只能称它为“温柔的手”。

Lesson 4 The Grandfather|第4课 祖父

Charles G.Eastman (b.1816, d.1861) was born in Maine, but removed at an early age to Vermont, where he was connected with the press at Burlington, Woodstock, and Montpelier.He published a volume of poems in 1848, written in a happy lyric and ballad style, and faithfully portraying rural life in New England.

The farmer sat in his easy-chair

Smoking his pipe of clay,

While his hale old wife with busy care,

Was clearing the dinner away;

A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes,

On her grandfather's knee, was catching flies.

The old man laid his hand on her head,

With a tear on his wrinkled face,

He thought how often her mother, dead,

Had sat in the selfsame place;

As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye,

"Don't smoke!" said the child, "how it makes you cry!"

The house dog lay stretched out on the floor,

Where the shade, afternoons, used to steal;

The busy old wife by the open door

Was turning the spinning wheel,

And the old brass clock on the manteltree

Had plodded along to almost three.

Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair,

While close to his heaving breast

The moistened brow and the cheek so fair

Of his sweet grandchild were pressed;

His head bent down, all her soft hair lay;

Fast asleep were they both on that summer day.

查尔斯·G.伊士曼(1816~1861年),出生在缅因州,但早年就移居到佛蒙特 州。在那里,他和伯灵顿、伍德斯托克、蒙彼利埃的出版商保持联系。1848年,他出版了一本诗集,写了一些明快的歌词和民歌,忠实地描绘了新英格兰人民的田园生活。

农夫坐在他的安乐椅上

抽着陶土制的烟斗,

他精神矍铄的年迈妻子

正忙着餐后的清理工作;

一个蓝眼睛的漂亮女孩,

坐在祖父膝上抓蜻蜓。

老人用手抚摸她的头,

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