值得抄写的短篇美文怎么写？( 四 )

Peace, no le than war, must offer a spirit of comradeship, a spirit of achievement, a spirit of unselfishne, and indomitable will to victory.
Peace, no le than war, must offer a spirit of comradeship, a spirit of achievement, a spirit of unselfishne, and indomitable will to victory.
Peace can endure only so long as humanity really insists upon it, and is willing to work for it and sacrifice for it.
—Franklin D.Roosevelt
3． To Spring
Oh you, sweet Spring, alight from cherub’s wing,
And put the ugly winter full to flight;
And rouse the earth to smile, and larks to sing,
With skies so bright and hearts of youth so light.
Your gentle and genial breaths each bloom blow,
While bees in gardens hum the lullabies.
The hills and dales are stripp’d of mantles of snow,
And streams and rivers freed from irons of ice.
May seasons all be Spring—the pride of years,
That all the things would e’er in glories gleam!
May men be ever in the prime of years!
But dream, however sweet, is but a dream.
If happy when you come and sad when gone,
Would that you’d never come or never gone!
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
4．Night
Night has fallen over the country.Through the trees rises the red moon, and the stars are scarcely seen.In the vast shadow of night the coolne and the dews descend.I sit at the open window to enjoy them; and hear only the voice of the summer wind.Like black hulks, the shadows of the great trees ride at anchor on the billowy see of gra.I cannot see the red and blue flowers, but I know that they are there.Far away in the meadow gleams the silver Charles①.The tramp of horses’ hoofs sounds from the wooden bridge.Then all is still save the continuous wind of the summer night.Sometimes I know not if it be the wind or the sounds of the neighboring sea.The village clock strikes; and I feel that I am not alone.
How different it is in the city! It is late, and the crowd is gone.You step out upon the balcony, and lie in the very bosom of the cool, dewy night as if you folded her garments about you.Beneath lies the public walk with trees, like a fathomle, black gulf, into whose silent darkne the spirit plunges, and floats away some beloved spirit clasped in its embrace.The lamps are still burning up and down the long street.People go by with grotesque shadows, now foreshortened, and now lengthening away into the darkne and vanishing, while a new one springs up behind the walker, and seems to pa him revolving like the sail of a windmill.The iron gates of the park shut with a jangling clang.There are footsteps and loud voices;—a tumult;—a drunken brawl;—an alarm of fire;—then silence again.And now at length the city is asleep, and we can see the night.The belated moon looks over the roofs, and finds no one to welcome her.The moonlight is broken.It lies here and there in the squares, and the opening of the streets—angular like blocks of whit e marble.
By Nathanial Hawthorne
①the Charles: 美国马萨诸塞州的一条河流