【www.shanpow.com--教师节】
when,we,two,parted,赏析篇一
《When We Two Parted 诗歌鉴赏》
2011-2012学年第一学期期末论文
浅谈《当我们分别了》中的结构、主题、暗喻问题 课程名称：
任课教师：
学生姓名：
班 级：
学 号：
1
Analysis on the Structure, Theme and Metaphorical Element of When We Two
Parted
Abstract: This poem is a very typical Romantic poem, about the love. The poet of this poem is Lord Byron, who expressed his feeling of love, a typical issue of Romanticism. This theory analyzes this poem from its structure and theme.
Key Words: love, structure, theme, Romanticism
2
Ⅰ. The Structure of This Poem
With respect to the structure of the poem, When we two parted contains four stanzas of eight verses each one. There are, also, four kinds of rhyme in each stanza. In the first four verses of each stanza, odd verses have a rhyme, and even verses have another rhyme, and this method is used by the writer in the last four verses of each stanza with a rhyme for each pair of verses as I said before. The whole poem is with the rhyme of ababcdcd. The vocabulary is easy to understand for everybody who studies the English language. The first verse of the poem is also the title of the poem, which means that the writer could not or did not want to find a title for the poem (maybe the damage he felt was so strong that he was not able to find a good title for the poem, as he writes at the end of the third stanza (Long, long shall I rue thee/ Too deeply to tell), or maybe he wanted the later generations to remember this poem deeply.
Ⅱ. The Theme of This Poem
This poem is about the love. It’s a typical Romantic poem, typical Romantic poet Lord Byron’s work, and Lord Byron expresses his feeling of love, a typical issue of Romanticism.
As we all know, Lord Byron is a typical Romanic poet in Romanticism. There is no doubt that When We Two Parted has typical structure and theme of Romanticism.
As I said at the beginning of the theory, firstly the poem is about the end (the man probably does not know that it is the end) of a love story between a man and a woman (the first four verses). After the whole poem is an expression of feelings of hate from the man towards the woman because she left him (To sever for years: did the man go to fight in a war, for instance?). Also, the whole poem, from the first line to the last one, is written in the first person, in plural (When we two parted), and in singular (I hear thy name spoken). It means that this poem maybe
autobiographical or not, maybe the woman was a real woman or not, or simply the work is an ode to disappointed love. I would like to emphasize the contrast between two verses (the second one and the last one), seemingly equal in form but with different meanings, it depends on what the previous line said. In the first pair of verses (When we two parted/ In silence and tears) the man feels true love towards his beloved, but she, as we will see some verses later, does not, and the last verse is the definitive confirmation of what he feels is disgust and pity because of what could be and was not. The third verse of the poem may have two different
meanings too: Half broken-hearted: the man can have his heart broken because he 3
loves her completely and he would do anything for her, and can have his heart broken because she has left him and he will never see her again.
I will analyze the feeling of each stanza, seemingly equal in form but with different meanings, it depends on what the previous line said. In the first pair of verses (When we two parted, in silence and tears) the man feels true love towards his beloved, but she, as we will see some verses later, does not. And the first stanza has already implied that this poem expresses the feeling of grief and hate. In a word, the first stanza tells us the base of grief and sorrow. The second stanza verse exposes the reasons of grief and sorrow (Thy vows are all broken, and light is thy fame). The third verse of the poem may have two different meanings from the former ones (Why wert thou so dear? They know not I know thee, who knew thee too well----long, long shall I met thee, too deeply to tell). This verse expresses the man’s complete love to the woman and he can do anything for her, and can have his heart broken because she has left him and he will never see her again. And the last verse is the definitive confirmation of what he feels is disgust and pity because of what could be and was not. He imagines that “If I should meet thee?” then the answer is “With silence and tears.” This verse expresses the sorrow and the desperation towards the love and the woman, then this expression switches from the sorrow to hate in “That thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive.” Ⅲ. The Metaphorical Element of This Poem
Lord Byron made the best use of metaphorical element to convey his feelings of the love and all the scenes in this poet give the readers an inconsolable
impression deeply. Now, I will analyze the metaphorical elements in this poet. The cold is a very important metaphorical element at the beginning of the second and the third stanzas: The dew of the morning/ Sunk chill on my brow: here the cold is shown as a metaphor of the feelings that the man has towards the woman, as it happens too in A knell to mine ear/A shudder comes o’er me: dew, chill, knell and shudder are words that symbolize cold in many different ways. Here the man would not already break himself his heart for her. The verses They name thee
before me and They know not I knew thee give to understand that maybe more men were in love to the woman he got for some time.
In the last stanza, the two first verses have two words that may be synonyms, but they mean a totally different thing, they are the contrast of the poem: In secret we met, here Byron wants to transmit the passion of two lovers in their first secret encounter. And In silence I grieve symbolizes that nobody can help this man to come back to smile after having been left by the woman he loved. The two
following verses, That thy heart could forget/ Thy spirit deceive say what she made him: she forgot him and she deceived him.
4
Bibliography:
[1].Abrams, M. H. ed., The Norton Authology of English literature. New York. London: W. W, Norton & Company, 1979
[2].Li Zhengshuan, Wu Xiaomei, A Course of English And American Poetry, Tsinghua Press, 2009
[3].桂扬清，吴翔林. 英美文学选读. 北京:中国对外翻译出版社,1991
[4].胡家峦. 英语诗歌精品. 北京:北京大学出版社,1995
[5].关伟仁.英国文学史及选读. 北京:外语教学与研究出版社,1988 5
when,we,two,parted,赏析篇二
《When we two parted中文赏析》
When we two parted
每每读到英国诗人拜伦的这首抒情诗when we two parted, 都有一种郁结与心头久久不能散去的缱绻迷离之感.似有千种风情欲诉无辞,似悲似忘,似爱似怨.这种凄迷的微妙情感都汇聚于这首短小淡然的诗歌之中.这是拜伦在20多岁写出的最引人注目的抒情诗之一,诗中虽没有孤傲叛逆和桀骜不驯的英雄气概,却能触摸到读者心底最脆弱的部位,代表着无数颗纯真心灵的逼真写照,只得反复体味,厌倦兴叹. 虽是一首动情的抒情诗,诗却由明显的三个叙述画面组成的:往昔的分别场景,今日的人群场面,多年后的重逢画面.三个叙述画面从不同层次逐渐展露出了诗中人的复杂情感体验,而且首位对照更绝妙的烘托出了一种“相顾无言,惟有泪千行”的凄迷心痛. 诗篇一开篇展现给大家的就是往昔的那个离别场景,向读者清晰的叙述了那个离别的时刻:在一个清冷的破晓时分,我们在沉默和泪水中决定平静地分手,双方都因分离的无可奈何而感到伤痛欲绝.清寒的晨露冷彻我的额头,你脸色惨白冰凉,而你的那个浅淡的吻别更让我感到阵阵寒意. 接下来读者能构想出这样一个人群场景:在一个喧闹的会上或街边人群中,人们正在对你议论纷纷,指责你的轻浮,我只能假装以一个局外人的身份保持着沉默,因为在我平静的外表下掩饰着一颗激荡不定的心.我既为你感到羞愧,偶因对你的一往情深感到难以释怀,我们曾经是如此相知相爱,现在却只有不尽的悔恨,太深沉太悲痛,不堪为外人道!诗人此刻心里是矛盾的复杂情感体验,在对“你”层层责问之后,却情绪一转.沉默,泪流. 在最后一个诗节,诗人巧妙地融合了过去、现在、将来三个时空画面:你我过去秘密的幽会,现在我只能肚子默默悲泣,你的心竟然把问我遗忘,为什么把我欺骗?如果在多年以后我们偶然相逢,我应该怎么跟你打招呼呢?只有含泪默默无语. 诗尾多年后重逢的画面与开篇时离别场面守卫呼应,道出了无数读者心底那丝隐隐带些悲痛的柔情.所谓“物是人非事事休,欲语泪先流”,所谓“纵然情依旧梦难圆”的千古流传的凄迷伤感,应该就凝固在这样一个瞬间吧! 这首诗短短32行,共145个字,却能做到抚今忆昔思将来,给我们呈现出一个婉转动人的故事,叙述凝练、简洁、干净,三个画面使全诗起伏跳跃,层次丰富,情感真实立体化. 三个叙述画面使全诗向读者流露出的是悲、怨、爱三种情感交织的复杂体验.读者在读过前两节诗歌后能体会到的只是诗中人离别是的感伤和对诗中负心
人的怨恨.在读到后两节时,才层层向读者剥露出了那份和悲与怨同样深沉的爱.读者才一同体验到了那种笼罩全诗的似悲似忘,似爱似怨的复杂感情,那种欲罢不能的刻骨铭心. 旧日依依惜别,泪流默默无言;离恨肝肠断,此别又几年.多年惜别后,抑或在邂逅,邂逅何所语?泪流默无声.诗中感情字字真诚,绝不装腔作势.“in silence and tears”的一再,不只使全诗前 后照应,而且强化了以往和将来不会变动的空气;另一方面,诗人运用了较短的世界和众多断开的桔子,显露出她的难以抑制的疾苦心境.
when,we,two,parted,赏析篇三
《英语经典诗文赏析》
英语诗歌是英语语言的精华。它以最凝练的文字传递时间与空间、物质与精神、理智与情感。诗歌本身包含的丰富社会生活内容和艺术内涵，诗歌语言的独特的美与和谐都使它们具有无穷的魅力。下面小编为大家带来英语经典诗文赏析，欢迎大家阅读!
英语经典诗文：辞世之后
When we shall be dust in the churchyard---
In twenty years---in fifty years---
Who will remember you kissed me once,
Who will be grieved for our tears?
The locust tree will have grown taller,
The old walks will be covered with grass,
And past our quiet graves go straying
A youth with his arm round his lass.when,we,two,parted,赏析。
And the bee that shall suck your grave flowers---
Anemone, stock, columbine,
May pause in his swift homing journey
To taste of the honey from mine.
二十或三十年后尘埃落定，
教堂后将垒起你我的坟茔;
谁来哀悼我们洒过的眼泪，
谁会记得我们曾热烈亲吻?
那刺槐会长得更高更大，
野草将遮盖昔日的小径;
年青的情侣相拥着走过，
两座坆头之间更加冷清。
耧斗菜，紫罗兰，秋牡丹，
蜜蜂在你坆头把鲜花吸吮;
也许，为了品尝我坆头的花蜜，
在匆匆飞回蜂巢途中稍作停顿。
英语经典诗文：人生是什么
Life...What is it?
See it in the colors of autumn,
A gentle snowfall in winter,
A sudden shower in spring,
The radiance of a summer day.
Behold it in the laughter Of the young and the old.
Know of it in a surge of hope,
The blessings that are bountiful.
What is life?
It is joy,awareness,
And the music within.
人生是什么?when,we,two,parted,赏析。
细细品岁月：
春有雨丝阵阵，
夏有阳光热烈，
秋有绚丽色彩，
冬有飘飘飞雪。
人生是什么?
放眼看世界：
老幼笑声爽朗，
希望之火不灭;
祝愿充满寰宇，
福佑遍布原野。
人生是什么?
自身找感觉：
是欢乐，是领悟，
是灵魂深处的音乐。
英语经典诗文赏析相关文章：
1.经典英语诗歌赏析
2.英语经典诗歌欣赏
3.英语经典美文赏析
4.经典英语美文译文赏析
5.英语经典哲理美文赏析
6.经典英语诗歌欣赏
7.优美经典英语诗歌欣赏
8.精选励志经典美文赏析
9.英文经典诗歌欣赏
10.经典英语美文欣赏
when,we,two,parted,赏析篇四
《经典安徒生童话故事两篇》
安徒生，丹麦19世纪著名童话作家，世界文学童话创始人，因为其童话作品而闻名于世。他通过童话的形式，真实地反映了他所处的那个时代及其社会生活，深厚地表达了平凡人的感情和意愿，从而使人们的感情得到净化与升华。下面小编为大家带来安徒生童话故事英语阅读，欢迎大家阅读!
安徒生童话故事：一千年之内
Yes, in a thousand years people will fly on the wings of steam through the air, over the ocean! The young inhabitants of America will become visitors of old Europe. They will come over to see the monuments and the great cities, which will then be in ruins, just as we in our time make pilgrimages to the tottering splendors of Southern Asia. In a thousand years they will come!
The Thames, the Danube, and the Rhine still roll their course, Mont Blanc stands firm with its snow-capped summit, and the Northern Lights gleam over the land of the North; but generation after generation has become dust, whole rows of the mighty of the moment are forgotten, like those who already slumber under the hill on which the rich trader, whose ground it is, has built a bench, on which he can sit and look out across his waving corn fields.
“To Europe!” cry the young sons of America; “to the land of our ancestors, the glorious land of monuments and fancy—to Europe!”
The ship of the air comes. It is crowded with passengers, for the transit is quicker than by sea. The electro-magnetic wire under the ocean has already telegraphed the number of the aerial caravan. Europe is in sight. It is the coast of Ireland that they see, but the passengers are still asleep; they will not be called till they are exactly over England. There they will first step on European shore, in the land of Shakespeare, as the educated call it; in the land of politics, the land of machines, as it is called by others.
Here they stay a whole day. That is all the time the busy race can devote to the whole of England and Scotland. Then the journey is continued through the tunnel under the English Channel, to France, the land of Charlemagne and Napoleon. Moliere is named, the learned men talk of the classic school of remote antiquity. There is rejoicing and shouting for the names of heroes, poets, and men of science, whom our time does not know, but who will be born after our time in Paris, the centre of Europe, and elsewhere.
The air steamboat flies over the country whence Columbus went forth, where Cortez was born, and where Calderon sang dramas in sounding verse. Beautiful black-eyed women live still in the blooming valleys, and the oldest songs speak of the Cid and the Alhambra.
Then through the air, over the sea, to Italy, where once lay old, everlasting Rome. It has vanished! The Campagna lies desert. A single ruined wall is shown as the remains of St. Peter’s, but there is a doubt if this ruin be genuine.
Next to Greece, to sleep a night in the grand hotel at the top of Mount Olympus, to say that they have been there; and the journey is continued to the Bosphorus, to rest there a few hours, and see the place where Byzantium lay; and where the legend tells that the harem stood in the time of the Turks, poor fishermen are now spreading their nets.
Over the remains of mighty cities on the broad Danube, cities which we in our time know not, the travellers pass; but here and there, on the rich sites of those that time shall bring forth, the caravan sometimes descends, and departs thence again.
Down below lies Germany, that was once covered with a close net of railway and canals, the region where Luther spoke, where Goethe sang, and Mozart once held the sceptre of harmony. Great names shine there, in science and in art, names that are unknown to us. One day devoted to seeing Germany, and one for the North, the country of Oersted and Linnaeus, and for Norway, the land of the old heroes and the young Normans. Iceland is visited on the journey home. The geysers burn no more, Hecla is an extinct volcano, but the rocky island is still fixed in the midst of the foaming sea, a continual monument of legend and poetry.
“There is really a great deal to be seen in Europe,” says the young American, “and we have seen it in a week, according to the directions of the great traveller” (and here he mentions the name of one of his contemporaries) “in his celebrated work, ‘How to See All Europe in a Week.’”
安徒生童话故事：柳树下的梦
The country around the town of Kjöge is very bare. The town itself lies by the seashore, which is always beautiful, although it might be more beautiful than it is, because all around are flat fields, and a forest a long way off. But one always finds something beautiful in the spot that is one's own home, something for which one longs, even when one is in the most wonderful spot in the world.
And we must admit that the outer edge of Kjöge, where small, humble gardens line the little stream that flows into the sea, could be very pretty in the summertime. This was the opinion of the two small children, Knud and Johanne, who were playing there, crawling under the gooseberry bushes to reach each other.
In one of the gardens there stood an elder tree, in the other an old willow, and under the latter the children were especially fond of playing. Although the tree stood close beside the stream and they might easily have fallen into the water, they were allowed to play there, for the eye of God watches over little ones. Otherwise they would be very badly off indeed. Besides, these two were careful about the water; in fact, the boy was so afraid of it that in the summer he could not be lured into the sea, where the other children were fond of splashing about. As a result, he had to bear the teasing of the others as best he could.
But once Johanne, the little girl, dreamed she was out in a boat, and Knud waded out to join her, with the water rising until it closed over his head. And from the moment little Knud heard of this dream he could no longer bear to be called a coward. He might really go into the water now, he said, since Johanne had dreamed it. He never carried that idea into practice, but for all that the dream remained his great pride.
Their poor parents often came together, while Knud and Johanne played in the gardens or on the highroad, where a long row of willows had been planted along the ditch. These trees with their polled tops certainly did not look very beautiful, but they were there for use rather than for ornament. The old willow tree in the garden was much lovelier, which was why the children took most delight in sitting under it.
In Kjöge itself was a great market place, and at fair time this plaza was gay with whole streets of tents, filled with silk ribbons, boots, and everything a person might desire. There were great crowds then, and generally the weather was rainy. One could easily smell the odor of peasants' clothes, but this could not destroy the fragrance that streamed from a booth full of honey cakes. And best of all, the man who kept this particular booth came every year during fair time to lodge in the house of little Knud's parents. Consequently, every now and then there was a present of a bit of honey cake, and of course Johanne always received her share.
But the best thing of all was that this gingerbread dealer knew all sorts of charming stories and could even tell tales about his own gingerbread cakes. One evening he told a story about them which made such a deep impression on the two children that they never forgot it. For that reason perhaps we should hear it, too, especially since it is not very long.
"On the shop counter," he said, "there once lay two gingerbread cakes. One was in the shape of a man with a hat on, the other of a maiden with no bonnet but with a blot of yellow on top of her head. Both their faces were on the upper side, for that was the side that was supposed to be looked at, and not the other. Indeed, most people have one side from which they should be viewed. On his left side the man wore a bitter almond for a heart; but the maiden, on the other hand, was honey cake all through. They were placed on the counter as samples, so they remained there for a long time, until at last they fell in love with each other. But neither told the other, which they should have done if they had expected anything to come of it.
" 'He is a man, so he must speak first,' thought the maiden. But she was quite contented, for she knew in her heart that her love was returned. His thoughts were far more extravagant, which is just like a man. He dreamed that he was a street urchin, and that he had four pennies all his own, and that he bought the maiden and ate her up.when,we,two,parted,赏析。
"So they lay on the counter for days and weeks, and grew dry, but the thoughts of the maiden remained still gentle and womanly.
" 'It's enough for me that I have lived on the same table with him, ' thought the maiden, and then she broke in two.
" 'If only she had known of my love she would have held together a little longer,' thought he.
"So that's the story, and here they are, both of them," said the baker. "They're remarkable for their strange history and for their silent love, which never came to anything. And now they're both for you!" With that he gave Johanne the man, who was still in one piece, and Knud got the broken maiden; but the children had been so touched by the story that they couldn't be so bold as to eat up the lovers.
Next day they took them out to the Kjöge churchyard, where, winter and summer, lovely ivy covers the church wall like a rich carpet. They stood the two cake figures up among the green leaves in the bright sunshine and told a group of other children the story of the silent love that was useless; that is to say, the love was, for the story was charming, they all found.
But when they looked again at the gingerbread couple they found that a mischievous big boy had eaten up the broken maiden. The children cried about that and later - probably so that the poor lover might not be left alone in the world - they ate him up, too. But they never forgot the story. The two children were always together by the elder tree or under the willow, and little Johanne sang the most beautiful songs in a voice as clear as a silver bell. Knud had not a note of music in him, but at least he knew the words of the songs, and that was something. But the people of Kjöge, even the wife of the hardware merchant, stopped and listened when Johanne sang. "She has a very sweet voice, that little girl," she said.
Those were glorious days; but glorious days do not last forever, and finally the neighbors separated. Johanne's mother died, and her father planned to marry again in Copenhagen, where he had been promised a position as messenger, a job supposed to be very profitable. While the neighbors parted with regrets, the children wept bitterly, but the parents promised to write to each other at least once a year.
And Knud was made apprentice to a shoemaker, for such a big boy was too old to run around wild any longer; and, furthermore, he was confirmed.
Oh, how he would have liked to see little Johanne in Copenhagen on that day of celebration! But he didn't go; and he had never been there, although Kjöge is only five Danish miles away. On a clear day Knud could see the distant towers of the city across the bay, and on the day of his confirmation he could even see the golden cross on the tower of the Church of Our Lady glitter in the sun.
Ah, how often his thoughts turned toward Johanne! And did she remember him? Yes! At Christmastime a letter came from her father to Knud's parents, saying that they were doing very well in Copenhagen, and Johanne could look forward to a brilliant career on the strength of her lovely voice. She already had a position in the opera house and was already earning a little money, out of which she sent her dear neighbors of Kjöge a dollar for a merry Christmas Eve. Johanne herself added a postscript, asking them to drink to her health, and in the same postscript was also written, "Friendly greetings to Knud!"
They all wept; but this was all very pleasant, for they were tears of joy that they shed. Knud's thoughts had been with Johanne every day, and now he knew that she also thought of him. The nearer came the end of his apprenticeship, the more clearly did he realize that he was in love with Johanne and that she must be his little wife.
When he thought of this a smile brightened his face, and he drew the thread faster than before and pressed his foot against the knee strap. He didn't even pay any attention when he ran the awl deep into one of his fingers. He was determined that he would not play the silent lover, like the two gingerbread cakes. The story had taught him a lesson.
Now he was a journeyman, and his knapsack was packed ready for his trip. At last, for the first time in his life, he was to go to Copenhagen, where a master was already expecting him. How surprised and happy Johanne would be to see him! She was just seventeen now, and he nineteen.
He wanted to buy a gold ring for her before he left Kjöge, but then decided he could get a much nicer one in Copenhagen. And so he took leave of his parents, and on a rainy, windy day in autumn set forth on foot from the town of his birth. The damp leaves were dropping from the trees, and he was wet to the skin when he arrived at his new master's home in the big city of Copenhagen. The following Sunday he would pay a visit to Johanne's father!
So, on Sunday he put on the new journeyman's clothes, and the new hat from Kjöge that became him very well, for till then he had only worn a cap. He easily found the house he was seeking, and mounted flight after flight of stairs until he became almost dizzy. It seemed terrible to him for people to live piled up on top of each other in this intricate city.
Everything in the parlor looked prosperous, and Johanne's father received him in kindly friendship. Knud was a stranger to the new wife, but she too shook hands with him and gave him a cup of coffee.
"Johanne will be glad to see you," said the father. "You've grown into a nice-looking young man. Yes, wait till you see her. There is a girl who rejoices my heart, and please God she will rejoice it still more. She has her own room now and pays us rent regularly for it!"
Then he knocked quite politely at his daughter's door, as if he were a stranger, and they went in.
Oh, how pretty it was! he was certain there wasn't such a lovely room in all Kjöge; the Queen herself could not be more charmingly lodged. There were carpets, and window curtains that hung quite to the floor, and flowers and pictures, and a velvet chair, and even a mirror as large as a door and so clear there was a danger of walking into it.
A glance showed all this to Knud, and yet he could look at nothing but Johanne. She was a full-grown maiden now, quite different from Knud's memories of her, and much more beautiful. There wasn't a girl in Kjöge like her. How graceful she was, and with what a strange, unsure gaze she looked at Knud! But that was only for a moment, and then she rushed toward him as if it kiss him. she did not actually do so, but she very nearly did.
Yes, she was really happy to see her childhood friend again! There were tears in Johanne's eyes; she had so much to say, and so many questions to ask about everything, from Knud's parents to the elder tree and the willow, which she called Elder Mother and Willow Father just as if they had been human beings; and indeed they might be called so, just as much as the gingerbread cakes. She spoke of them too, and their silent love, and how they had lain on the shop counter and broken in two - and at this she laughed heartily, while the blood rushed to Knud's cheeks and his heart beat faster and faster. No, she had not grown haughty at all.
And Knud noticed quite well that it was because of her that her parents invited him to spend the evening. With her won hands she poured out the tea and gave him a cup; and afterward she read aloud to them from a book, and it seemed to Knud that what she read was all about himself and his love, for it matched with his thoughts. Then she sang a simple little song, but her singing made it a real story that seemed to be the outpouring of her very heart.
Yes, Knud knew she cared for him. He could not keep tears of joy from rolling down his cheeks, nor could he speak a single word - he seemed struck dumb. But she pressed his hand and murmured, "You have a good heart, Knud. Stay always the way you are now!"
That was a magnificent evening; it was impossible to sleep afterward, and accordingly Knud did not sleep.
When he had left, Johanne's father had said, "Now, don't forget us altogether. Don't let the whole winter go by before you come to us again!" Knud felt that gave him permission to repeat the call the following Sunday, and determined to do so.
But every evening after work - and the working hours lasted until candlelight there - Knud went out into the town. He returned to the street in which Johanne lived, and looked up at her window. It was almost always lighted, and one evening he could even see the shadow of her face quite plainly on the curtain. That was an evening he would never forget. His master's wife did not like his "gallivanting abroad every evening," as she put it, and shook her head ruefully over him; but the master only smiled.
"He's just a young fellow," he said.
"On Sunday we shall see each other," Knud thought, "and I shall tell her how she is always in my thoughts and that she must be my little wife. I know I'm only a poor journeyman shoemaker, but I can become a master, and I'll work and save - yes, I'll tell her that! No good comes from a silent love; I've learned that much from the gingerbread!"
Sunday came at last, and Knud set out, but to his great disappointment they had to tell him they were all invited out that evening. But as he left Johanne pressed his hand and said, "Have you ever been to the theater? You must go there sometime. I shall be singing on Wednesday, and if you have time that evening I'll send you a ticket. My father knows where you are living."
How kind it was of her! And at noon on Wednesday he received a sealed envelope. There were no words inside, but the ticket was there, and that evening Knud went to the theater for the first time in his life. And what did he see? He saw Johanne, looking more charming and beautiful than he ever could have believed possible! To be sure, she was married to a stranger, but that was just in the play; it was only make-believe, as Knud understood very well. If it had been true, he thought, she would never have had the heart to send him a ticket so that he could go and see it. And everybody shouted and applauded, and Knud cried out, "Hurrah!"
Even the King was there, smiling at Johanne, and he seemed to delight in her loveliness. How small Knud felt then! Still he loved her dearly, and felt that she loved him, too; but he knew it was up to the man to speak the first word, as the gingerbread maiden in the story had taught him. Indeed, there was a great deal of truth in that story.
So, as soon as Sunday came, he went to see her again, feeling as solemn as if he were going into a church. Johanne was at home alone; it could not have happened more fortunately.
"I'm glad you came," she said. "I almost sent Father after you, but I felt in my heart that you would be here this evening. I have to tell you that I am leaving for France on Friday; I must study there if I am to become a great artiste!"
At those words it seemed to Knud as if the whole room were whirling round and round with him. He felt as if his heart would break; there were no tears in his eyes, but Johanne could not fail to see how stricken he was .
"You honest, faithful soul!" she said.
And her tenderness loosened his tongue. He told her how much he loved her and begged her to become his little wife. Then he saw Johanne turn pale as she dropped his hand and said seriously and sadly, "Dear Knud, don't make us both unhappy. I shall always be a loving sister to you, one in whom you may trust, but I shall never be anything more."
Gently she placed her soft hand on his hot forehead. "God gives us the strength for much," she said, "if only we try to do our best." At that moment her stepmother entered the room, and Johanne said, "Knud is quite heartbroken because I'm going away! Come, be a man," and she laid her hand on his shoulder; it seemed as if they had been talking only of her journey. "You're a child," she laughed, "but now you must be good and reasonable, as you used to be under the willow tree when we were both children!"
Knud felt as if the whole world were out of joint, and his thoughts were like a loose thread fluttering in the wind. He remained for tea, though he hardly knew if they had asked him to; and they were kind and gentle, and Johanne poured out his tea and sang to him. Her voice did not have its old tone, but still it was wonderfully beautiful and nearly broke his heart. And then they parted. Knud could not bear to offer his hand, but she took it and said, "Surely you'll shake hands with your sister at parting, old playmate!"
She smiled through the tears that were in her own eyes, and repeated the word "brother". Yes, that was supposed to be a great consolation! Such was their parting.
She sailed for France, and Knud wandered about the muddy streets of Copenhagen. His comrades in the workshop asked why he was so gloomy and urged him to join them and amuse himself, for he was still a young fellow.
So they took him to a dance hall. He saw many pretty girls there, but there was not one to compare with Johanne; here, where he had hoped to forget her, she was more vivid than ever before the eyes of his soul. "God gives us the strength for much," she had said, "if only we try to do our best." Then a devotion came to his mind, and he folded his hands quietly. The violins played, and the girls danced gaily, and suddenly it seemed to him that he should never have brought Johanne into a place like this - for she was there with him, in his heart.
Knud ran out and wandered aimlessly through the streets. He passed by the house where she had lived; it was dark there - everywhere were darkness and emptiness and loneliness. The world went in its way, and Knud went his.
Winter set in, and the waters froze over; it was as if everything were preparing itself for burial. But when spring returned, and the first steamer was to start, an intense longing seized him to go away, far into the world, anywhere - but not too close to France. So he packed his knapsack and wandered deep into Germany, from town to town, finding rest and peace nowhere. It was not until he came to the glorious old city of Nuremberg that he could quiet his restless spirit, and there he decided to stay.
Nuremberg is a strange old city, looking as if it had been cut out of an old-fashioned picture book. The streets seem to wander along just as they please. The houses did not like to stand in regular rows. Gables with little towers, arabesques, and pillars lean out over the walks, and from the queer peaked roofs water-spouts, shaped like dragons or long, slim dogs, push out far over the streets.
There in the Nuremberg market place stood Knud, his knapsack, on his back. He was beside one of the old fountains, where splendid bronze figures, scriptural and historical, rose up between the gushing jets of water. A pretty little servant girl was just filling her pails, and she gave Knud a refreshing drink; and as her hand was full of roses she gave him one of them, too, and he accepted that as a good sign.
From the church near by came the strains of an organ; they rang as familiar to him as the tones of the organ at home in Kjöge church, and he entered the great cathedral. The sunlight streamed in through the high stained-glass windows and down between the lofty, slender pillars. His spirit found rest.
And Knud found a good master in Nuremberg, and he lived in his house, and there learned to speak German.
The old moat around the town of Nuremberg has been converted into little kitchen gardens, but the high walls with their heavy towers are standing yet. The ropemaker twists his cords on a wooden gallery along the inside of the town wall, where elderbushes grow out of the cracks and clefts, spreading their green branches over the small, lowly houses below. In one of these houses Knud lived with his master; and over the little garret window where he slept the elder tree waved its branches.
Here he lived for a summer and winter. But when spring returned he could bear it no longer, for the elder was blooming and the fragrance of its blossoms carried him back to home and the garden at Kjöge. So Knud left that master and found another farther in town, over whose house no elderbush blossomed.
His new workshop was close to one of the old stone bridges, by an ever-foaming, low water mill. The stream roared past it, hemmed in by the houses, whose decayed old balconies looked about to topple into the water. No elder grew here - there was not even a little green plant in a flowerpot - but just opposite stood a grand old willow tree that seemed to cling fast to the house, as if it feared being carried away by the stream. It stretched its branches out over the river, just as the willow at Kjöge spread its arms across the stream by the gardens of home.
Yes, Knud had gone from the Elder Mother to the Willow Father. This tree had something, especially on moonlit evenings, that went straight to his heart, and that something was not of the moonlight but of the old willow tree itself.
He could not remain there. Why not? Ask the willow tree; ask the blossoming elder! And so he bade farewell to his kind master and to Nuremberg and traveled on further.
To no one did he speak of Johanne, but hid his sorrow in his innermost heart; and he thought of the deep meaning of the old story of the gingerbread. Now he understood why the man had a bitter almond for a heart - he himself had felt the bitterness of it. And Johanne, who was always so gentle and smiling, she was only like the honey cake.
The strap of Knud's knapsack seemed so tight across his chest that he could scarcely breathe, but even when he loosened it he was not relieved. He saw only half the world around him; the other half he carried within him. That's how it was!
Not until he was in sight of the high mountains did the world appear freer to him; now his thoughts were turned outward again, and the tears came into his eyes.
The Alps seemed to him like the folded wings of the earth; what if they were to unfold themselves and display their varied pictures of black woods, foaming waters, clouds, and great masses of snow! On the last day, he thought, the world will lift up its mighty wings and mount upward to God, to burst like a soap bubble before the glance of the Highest.
"Ah," he sighed, "that that last day were here now!"
Silently he wandered through a country that seemed to him like an orchard covered with soft turf. From the wooden balconies of the houses girls, busy with their lacemaking, nodded down at him. The summits of the mountains glowed in the red evening sun; and when he saw the blue lakes gleaming through the dark trees, he thought of the seacoast near Kjöge, and there was a sadness in his heart - but it was pain no longer.
There where the Rhine rolls onward like a great wave, and then bursts into snow-white, gleaming, cloudlike masses, as if clouds were being created there, with the rainbow fluttering like a loose band above them - it was there that he thought of the mill at Kjöge, with its rushing, foaming stream.
He would have been glad to have remained in the quiet Rhenish town, but here also there were too many elder trees and too many willows, so he traveled on, over the mighty, towering mountains, through shattered walls of rock, and on roads that clung to the mountainsides like the nests of swallows. The waters foamed in the depths, the clouds themselves were below him, and he strode on in the warm summer sun over shiny thistles, Alpine roses and snow. Thus he said farewell to the lands of the North and journeyed on under the shade of blooming chestnut trees, and through vineyards and fields of maize. Now the mountains were a wall between him and all his memories; that was how he wished it to be.
At last he reached that great, glorious city called Milan, and here he found a German master who gave him work. The master an his wife, in whose workshop he labored now, were a pious old couple. And they became quite fond of the quiet journeyman, who said little but worked all the harder and led a devout Christian life. And to Knud also it seemed that God had lifted the heavy burden from his heart.
His favorite relaxation was to climb from time to time to the mighty marble church, which seemed to him to have been built of the snow of his native Northland, formed into images, pointed towers, and decorated open halls; from every corner and every niche the white statues smiled down upon him. Above him was the blue sky; below him were the city and the wide-spreading green plains of Lombardy, and toward the north the high mountains capped with perpetual snow. Then he thought of the church at Kjöge, with its red ivy-colored walls, but he did not long to go there again. Here, beyond the mountains, he would be buried.
He had lived there a year, and three years had passed since he had left his home, when one day his master took him into the city - not to the circus with its daring riders; no, to the great opera, where was an auditorium well worth seeing. There were seven tiers of boxes, and from each beautiful silken curtains hung, while from the ground to the dizzy heights of the roof there sat the most elegant ladies, with corsages in their hands as if they were at a ball, and gentlemen in full dress, many of them with decorations of gold and silver. It was as bright there as in the noonday sunshine, and the music rolled gloriously and beautifully; everything was much more splendid than in the theater at Copenhagen, but then Johanne had been in Copenhagen, and here - -
Yes! It was like magic - Johanne was here also! The Curtain rose, and she appeared, clad in silk and gold, with a gold crown upon her head. She sang as none but an angel could sing, and came far forward to the front of the stage, and smiled as only Johanne could smile, and looked straight down at Knud! The poor boy seized his master's arm and called out aloud, "Johanne!" The loud music sounded above everything, but no one heard but the master, who nodded his head.
"Yes," he said, "her name is Johanne!" Then he drew forth his program and showed Knud her name - for the full name was printed there.
No, it was not a dream! The great audience applauded and threw wreaths and flowers to Johanne, and every time she went away they called her back on stage, so that she was always going and coming.
In the street outside afterward the people crowded about her carriage and drew it away in triumph. Knud was in the first row and shouted as joyfully as any; and when the carriage halted before her brightly lighted house he was standing close beside the door. It opened, and she stepped out; the light fell upon her beloved face, and she smiled, thanked them graciously, and appeared deeply touched. Knud looked straight into her eyes, and she into his, but she never knew him. A gentleman with a decoration glittering on his breast gave her his arm - people said they were betrothed.
Then Knud went home and packed his knapsack. He had decided to return to his own home, to the elder and willow trees - ah, beneath the willow tree!
The old couple begged him to remain, but no words could change his mind. It was in vain that they pointed out to him that winter was coming and the snow had already fallen in the mountains. He replied that he could march, with his knapsack on his back, and supported by his cane, in the wake of a slow-moving carriage, for which a path would have to be cleared.
So Knud left for the mountains and climbed up them and down them. His strength grew less, but still he saw no village or house; always he plodded onward toward the North. High above him the stars gleamed; his feet stumbled, and his head grew dizzy with the heights. Stars seemed to shine deep in the valley, too, as if there were another sky below him. He felt ill. More and more stars became visible below him; they glowed brighter and brighter and moved to and fro. Then he realized it was the lights of a little town that were shining down there. When he was sure of that, he put forth the last of his strength and finally reached the shelter of a humble inn.
He remained there that night and the whole of the next day, for his body was in desperate need of rest and refreshment. The ice was beginning to thaw, and there was rain in the valley. But on the second morning a man with a hand organ came to the inn and played a Danish melody - and now Knud could not remain.
He resumed his journey northward, tramping on for many days, hurrying as though he were trying to reach home before all were dead there. But to no man did he speak of his longing, for no one would have believed in the sorrow of his spirit, the deepest a human heart can feel. Such grief is not for the world, for it is not amusing; nor is it for friends. And this man had no friends; a stranger, he wandered through strange lands toward his home in the North. He had received only one letter from home, and it was now years since his parents had written. "You are not really Danish as we here at home. We love our country, but you love only a strange country." Thus his parents had written him - yes, they thought they knew him!
Now it was evening. He was tramping along the public highway. The frost had settled down, and the country had become flatter, with fields and meadows on all sides. And near the road there grew a great willow tree! The whole outlook reminded Knud strongly of home; it looked so Danish, and with a deep sigh he sat down under the tree. He was very tired, his head began to nod, and his eyes closed in slumber, but still he seemed to see the tree stretching its arms above him, and in his wandering fancy the tree seemed to be a mighty old man - the Willow Father himself - carrying his tired son in his arms back to his Danish home, to the bare, bleak shore of Kjöge and the garden of his childhood.
Yes, he dreamed that this was the willow tree of Kjöge that had traveled out into the world in search of him, and at last had found him, and had carried him back into the little garden beside the stream. And there stood Johanne, in all her splendor, with the golden crown on her head, just as he had seen her last, and she called out "Welcome!" to him.
And before him stood two remarkable figures, looking much more human than he remembered them from his childhood. They had changed too, but they were still the two gingerbread cakes, the man and the maiden, that turned their right sides toward him, and looked very handsome.
"We thank you!" both said to Knud. "You have loosened our tongues and taught us that thoughts should be spoken freely or nothing will come of them. And now something has come of them - we are betrothed!"
Then they walked hand in hand through the street s of Kjöge, and looked very respectable even on the wrong side; no one could have found any fault with them. On they went, straight toward Kjöge Church, and Knud and Johanne followed them - they, too, walked hand in hand. The church stood there as it had always stood, with the beautiful green ivy growing on its red walls, and the great door of the church swung open, and the organ pealed, and the gingerbread couple walked up the aisle.
"Our master first," said the cake pair, and made room for Johanne and Knud to kneel before the altar. And she bent her head over him, and the tears fell from her eyes, but they were icy cold, for it was the ice around her heart that was melting, softened by his strong love.
The tears fell upon his burning cheeks, and then he awoke - and he was sitting under the old willow tree in a foreign land on that cold winter evening; an icy hail from the could s was beating on his face.
"That was the most wonderful hour of my life!" he cried. "And it was just a dream. Oh, God, let me dream again!
Then he closed his eyes once more and dreamed again.
Toward morning there was a great snowstorm, and the wind blew it in drifts over him, and when the villagers came forth to go to church they found a journeyman sitting by the roadside. He was dead - frozen to death beneath the willow tree!
结束语：
安徒生运用童话的形式诉说着他的爱、他对世事的洞察以及对生命的追问，他填补了全世界孩子童年的梦境，向他们传递了现实世界的真善美，以上的安徒生经典童话故事希望大家喜欢!
when,we,two,parted,赏析篇五
《英语演讲稿：用肢体语言来塑造自己》
肢体语言影响着他人对我们的看法，但同时它也影响着我们对自己的看法。我们如何用用肢体语言来塑造自己，我们一起来学习英语演讲稿：用肢体语言来塑造自己，仅供参考！
英语演讲稿：用肢体语言来塑造自己
So I want to start by offering you a free no-tech life hack, and all it requires of you is this: that you change your posture for two minutes. But before I give it away, I want to ask you to right now do a little audit of your body and what you're doing with your body. So how many of you are sort of making yourselves smaller? Maybe you're hunching, crossing your legs, maybe wrapping your ankles. Sometimes we hold onto our arms like this. Sometimes we spread out. (Laughter) I see you. (Laughter) So I want you to pay attention to what you're doing right now. We're going to come back to that in a few minutes, and I'm hoping that if you learn to tweak this a little bit, it could significantly change the way your life unfolds.
So, we're really fascinated with body language, and we're particularly interested in other people's body language. You know, we're interested in, like, you know — (Laughter) — an awkward interaction, or a smile, or a contemptuous glance, or maybe a very awkward wink, or maybe even something like a handshake.
Narrator: Here they are arriving at Number 10, and look at this lucky policeman gets to shake hands with the President of the United States. Oh, and here comes the Prime Minister of the — ? No. (Laughter) (Applause) (Laughter) (Applause)
Amy Cuddy: So a handshake, or the lack of a handshake, can have us talking for weeks and weeks and weeks. Even the BBC and The New York Times. So obviously when we think about nonverbal behavior, or body language -- but we call it nonverbals as social scientists -- it's language, so we think about communication. When we think about communication, we think about interactions. So what is your body language communicating to me? What's mine communicating to you?
And there's a lot of reason to believe that this is a valid way to look at this. So social scientists have spent a lot of time looking at the effects of our body language, or other people's body language, on judgments. And we make sweeping judgments and inferences from body language. And those judgments can predict really meaningful life outcomes like who we hire or promote, who we ask out on a date. For example, Nalini Ambady, a researcher at Tufts University, shows that when people watch 30-second soundless clips of real physician-patient interactions, their judgments of the physician's niceness predict whether or not that physician will be sued. So it doesn't have to do so much with whether or not that physician was incompetent, but do we like that person and how they interacted? Even more dramatic, Alex Todorov at Princeton has shown us that judgments of political candidates' faces in just one second predict 70 percent of U.S. Senate and gubernatorial race outcomes, and even, let's go digital, emoticons used well in online negotiations can lead to you claim more value from that negotiation. If you use them poorly, bad idea. Right? So when we think of nonverbals, we think of how we judge others, how they judge us and what the outcomes are. We tend to forget, though, the other audience that's influenced by our nonverbals, and that's ourselves.
We are also influenced by our nonverbals, our thoughts and our feelings and our physiology. So what nonverbals am I talking about? I'm a social psychologist. I study prejudice, and I teach at a competitive business school, so it was inevitable that I would become interested in power dynamics. I became especially interested in nonverbal expressions of power and dominance.
And what are nonverbal expressions of power and dominance? Well, this is what they are. So in the animal kingdom, they are about expanding. So you make yourself big, you stretch out, you take up space, you're basically opening up. It's about opening up. And this is true across the animal kingdom. It's not just limited to primates. And humans do the same thing. (Laughter) So they do this both when they have power sort of chronically, and also when they're feeling powerful in the moment. And this one is especially interesting because it really shows us how universal and old these expressions of power are. This expression, which is known as pride, Jessica Tracy has studied. She shows that people who are born with sight and people who are congenitally blind do this when they win at a physical competition. So when they cross the finish line and they've won, it doesn't matter if they've never seen anyone do it. They do this. So the arms up in the V, the chin is slightly lifted. What do we do when we feel powerless? We do exactly the opposite. We close up. We wrap ourselves up. We make ourselves small. We don't want to bump into the person next to us. So again, both animals and humans do the same thing. And this is what happens when you put together high and low power. So what we tend to do when it comes to power is that we complement the other's nonverbals. So if someone is being really powerful with us, we tend to make ourselves smaller. We don't mirror them. We do the opposite of them.
So I'm watching this behavior in the classroom, and what do I notice? I notice that MBA students really exhibit the full range of power nonverbals. So you have people who are like caricatures of alphas, really coming into the room, they get right into the middle of the room before class even starts, like they really want to occupy space. When they sit down, they're sort of spread out. They raise their hands like this. You have other people who are virtually collapsing when they come in. As soon they come in, you see it. You see it on their faces and their bodies, and they sit in their chair and they make themselves tiny, and they go like this when they raise their hand. I notice a couple of things about this. One, you're not going to be surprised. It seems to be related to gender. So women are much more likely to do this kind of thing than men. Women feel chronically less powerful than men, so this is not surprising. But the other thing I noticed is that it also seemed to be related to the extent to which the students were participating, and how well they were participating. And this is really important in the MBA classroom, because participation counts for half the grade.
