英文诗歌欣赏
《To a Skylark》 by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Oh skylark! O lark! thou singest of leisured days, In fields where is no work, no pain, no care! Thy notes are the food of the weary soul; They rise on the air, and they make it their own, They are the music of the air, the music of heaven.
Thy voice is like the voice of a joyous child, It dances through the air, it is light and free; Thy song is like the song of the springtime's breeze, It fills the heart with gladness, it fills it with cheer.
Oh skylark! O lark! thou art the spirit of joy, Thou art the essence of happiness, thou art the soul! Thou dost not know what sorrow is, thou dost not know what pain, For thou art the bird of the air, thou art the bird of the day.
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