Стихотворение на англ

Многие русские люди, которые изучают или хорошо знают английский язык хотят читать и учить стихи английских поэтов — американских и британских. Это очень полезно, так вы быстрее привыкаете к языку, заставляете себя мыслить на английском. Мы разместили подборку стихов великих известных английских поэтов для детей и взрослых. Учите английские стихи!

Красивые стихи английских поэтов на английском

Poem — Politeness Вежливость (Алан Александр Милн (Alan Alexander Milne)

If people ask me,
I always tell them:
"Quite well, thank you, I'm very glad to say."
If people ask me,
I always answer,
"Quite well, thank you, how are you to-day?"
I always answer,
I always tell them,
If they ask me
Politely.....
BUT SOMETIMES

I wish
That they wouldn't. 

Перевод С. Маршака

Когда я родных
И знакомых встречаю,
Я кланяюсь,
Шляпу сорвав с головы,
И вежливо
Всем на вопрос отвечаю:
- Большое спасибо.
Прекрасно. А вы?

Но знаете,
Взрослые дяди и тети,
Я мог бы счастливее
Жить-поживать,
Когда бы любезный
Вопрос "Как живете?"
Никто мне при встрече
Не стал задавать!

Fire And Ice Poem by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Кто говорит, мир от огня
 Погибнет, кто от льда.
 А что касается меня,
 Я за огонь стою всегда.
 Но если дважды гибель ждет
 Наш мир земной, — ну что ж,
 Тогда для разрушенья лед
 Хорош
 И тоже подойдет.

Стих To Time (Байрон)

Time! on whose arbitrary wing
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die---
Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed
Those boons to all that know thee known;
Yet better I sustain thy load,
For now I bear the weight alone.
I would not one fond heart should share
The bitter moments thou hast given;
And pardon thee---since thou couldst spare
All that I loved, to peace or Heaven.
To them be joy or rest---on me
Thy future ills shall press in vain;
I nothing owe but years to thee,
A debt already paid in pain.
Yet even that pain was some relief;
It felt, but still forgot thy power:
The active agony of grief
Retards, but never counts the hour.
In joy I've sighed to think thy flight
Would soon subside from swift to slow;
Thy cloud could overcast the light,
But could not add a night to Woe;
For then, however drear and dark,
My soul was suited to thy sky;
One star alone shot forth a spark
To prove thee---not Eternity.
That beam hath sunk---and now thou art
A blank---a thing to count and curse
Through each dull tedious trifling part,
Which all regret, yet all rehearse.
One scene even thou canst not deform---
The limit of thy sloth or speed
When future wanderers bear the storm
Which we shall sleep too sound to heed.
And I can smile to think how weak
Thine efforts shortly shall be shown,
When all the vengeance thou canst wreak
Must fall upon---a nameless stone. 

Джордж Гордон Байрон (George Gordon Byron)


К Времени


О Время! Все несется мимо,
Все мчится на крылах твоих:
Мелькают весны, медлят зимы,
Гоня к могиле всех живых.

Меня ты наделило, Время,
Судьбой нелегкою - а все ж
Гораздо легче жизни бремя,
Когда один его несешь!

Я тяжкой доли не пугаюсь
С тех пор, как обрели покой
Все те, чье сердце, надрываясь,
Делило б горести со мной.

Да будет мир и радость с ними!
А ты рази меня и бей!
Что дашь ты мне и что отнимешь?
Лишь годы, полные скорбей!

Удел мучительный смягчает
Твоей жестокой власти гнет:
Одни счастливцы замечают,
Как твой стремителен полет!

Пусть быстротечности сознанье
Над нами тучею висит:
Оно темнит весны сиянье,
Но скорби ночь не омрачит!

Как ни темно и скорбно было
Вокруг меня - мой ум и взор
Ласкало дальнее светило,
Стихии тьмы наперекор.

Но луч погас - и Время стало
Пустым мельканьем дней и лет:
Я только роль твержу устало,
В которой смысла больше нет!

Но заключительную сцену
И ты не в силах изменить:
Лишь тех, кто нам придет на смену,
Ты будешь мучить и казнить!

И, не страшась жестокой кары,
С усмешкой гнев предвижу твой,
Когда обрушишь ты удары
На хладный камень гробовой!

Перевод Татьяны Гнедич

 Стих — Breathes there the man, with soul so dead

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d,
As home his footsteps he hath turn’d
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.

The Human Seasons

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
     There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
     Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
     Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
     Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
     He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
     Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

Джон Китс (John Keats)


* * *


Четыре разных времени в году.
      Четыре их и у тебя, душа.
Весной мы пьем беспечно, на ходу
      Прекрасное из полного ковша.
Смакуя летом этот вешний мед,
      Душа летает, крылья распустив.
А осенью от бурь и непогод
      Она в укромный прячется залив.
Теперь она довольствуется тем,
      Что сквозь туман глядит на ход вещей.
Пусть жизнь идет неслышная совсем,
      Как у порога льющийся ручей.

Потом - зима. Безлика и мертва.
Что делать! Жизнь людская такова.

                           Перевод С.Я. Маршака 

Love And Friendship (Emily Bronte)

Love is like the wild rose briar,

Friendship, like the holly tree

The holly is dark when the rose briar blooms,

But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose briar is sweet in spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air

Yet wait till winter comes again

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now

And deck thee with the holly`s sheen

That when December blights thy brow

He still may leave thy garland green.

Учить короткие легкие стихи на английском с детьми — самый верный и простой способ заинтересовать ребенка языком и не упустить время. Дети запоминают все быстрее и если правильно заниматься, то они освоят английский язык быстро и легко.

Если у вас есть дети 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 класса, а также дошкольники 5-6 лет, то эти стихи вам точно подойдут. Если вы выучили тему «Животные» — закрепите это стихом. Если выучили цвета — запомните стишок про цвета. Так дети будут не только закреплять пройденные темы, но и осваивать английскую грамматику.

В нашей коллекции стихов на английском есть стихи про животных, маму, папу, Новый год, праздники, погоду и многое другое. Можно найти стихи на английском с переводом для детей и взрослых.

Короткие стихи на английском для детей

Стихи на английском с переводом

Зимний простой стих — Snowflakes are nice

Snowflakes are nice,
Snowflakes are white.
They fall by day,
They fall at night.

Снежинки красивые,
Снежинки белые.
Они падают днем,
Они падают ночью.

Детский стих — Winter

Winter hat
Upon my head —
My head stays warm,
But my nose is red!

Зимняя шапка
У меня на голове —
Голове моей тепло,
А вот нос мой красный!

Стих — Snow on the ground

Стих — Olya has a pencil

Стих на английском о семье

Спокойной ночи мама,
Спокойной ночи папа,
Поцелуйте своего маленького сына.
Спокойной ночи, сестра,
Спокойной ночи, брат,
Спокойной ночи всем.

It’s winter, it’s winter

It’s winter, it’s winter,
Let us skate and ski!
It’s winter, it’s winter,
It’s great fun for me!

Зима, зима,
Давайте кататься на лыжах и коньках!
Зима, зима,
Время веселья для меня!

Легкий короткий стих — Twinkle, twinkle, little star (можно петь ребенку перед сном)

Мерцай, мерцай, маленькая звезда
Хотел бы я знать, что ты такое
Так высоко над миром,
Словно бриллиант в небе.

Простой стих для детей — Where’s my little hare

Where’s my little hare?

Look! Under the chair.

Where’s my little fox?

Look! In the box.

Где мой маленький заяц?

Посмотри! Под стулом.

Где моя маленькая лиса?

Посмотри! В коробке.

Стих — Учим комнаты в квартире с детьми 5-6 классов

Давай пойдем ко мне домой.
Давай пойдем сегодня.
Я покажу тебе все комнаты,
Где мы работаем и играем.
Вот это кухня,
Где мама готовит для меня.
А вот это гостиная,
Где мы смотрим телевизор.
Это — столовая.
Мы едим здесь каждый день.
А эта комната — моя комната,
Где я сплю и играю.

Полезный короткий стих — Mind the clock

Mind the clock

And keep the rule:

Always come in time to school

Следите за временем

И возьмите за правило:

Всегда приходить вовремя в школу.

Легкий стих про лето — Under the Sky

Under the Sky

Here I lie

Under the sky

Green trees above me.

Nature and I.

Здесь я лежу

Зеленые деревья надо мной.

Природа и я.

Стих на английском про зиму — Crunch

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch
Up the hill we go
Sliding, sliding, sliding, sliding
Down the hill we go.

Хрусть, скрип, хрусть, скрип, хрусть,
Вверх на холм мы идем.
На санках едем, на санках едем,
Мы вниз с холма.

Чтобы было интереснее на уроке, вырежьте санки и нарисуйте горку. Когда дети учат стих на английском — санки поднимаем вверх по горке, затем они едут вниз.

Стих — What are little boys made

Из чего сделаны маленькие мальчики?
Из чего сделаны маленькие мальчики?
Из лягушек и улиток, и из хвостов щенков;
Вот из чего сделаны маленькие мальчики.
Из чего же сделаны маленькие девочки?
Из чего же сделаны маленькие девочки?
Из сахара и специй, и из всего, что мило;
Вот из чего сделаны маленькие девочки.

Стих короткий — Snowflakes falling

Snowflakes falling
One by one,
Time to play,
And have some fun.
Build a snowman
Snowballs, too,
Come and see what you can do.

Снежинки падают
Одна за другой,
Время играть,
И веселиться.
Слепить снеговика,
И снежки,
Приходи и посмотри, что ты можешь сделать.

Легкий стих на английском для детей — Look at the boy, he has a toy

Посмотри на мальчика, у него есть игрушка.
Посмотри на девочку, у нее есть кукла.
Посмотри на свинку, она очень большая.
Посмотри на Кейт, у нее есть тарелка.
Посмотри на лису, она в коробке.
Посмотри на Теда, он в кровати.
Посмотри на кота, он в шляпе.
Посмотри на Нелл, у нее есть колокольчик.
Посмотри на мышку, она в домике.
Посмотри на меня, я — счастлив.

Стих на английском — I will be a lion

I will be a lion,

And you will be a bear,

I will run after you,

And you will hide under the chair.

Я буду львом,

А ты будешь медведем,

Я буду бежать за тобой,

И ты спрячешься под стулом.

Красивый стих на английском — Pussy-cat

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
Where have you been?
I’ve been to London
To look at the Queen.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
What did you there?
I frightened a little mouse
Under her chair.

-Где ты была сегодня, киска?
-У королевы у английской.
-Что ты видала при дворе?
-Видала мышку на ковре.

Стих на английском с переводом- Three litt

Three little kittens
They lost their mittens,
And they began to cry,
Oh, mother dear,
We greatly fear
Our mittens we have lost.

Lost your mittens,
You naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.
Miew, miew, miew,
No, you shall have no pie.

Three little kittens
Thet found their mittens,
And they began to cry,
Oh, mother dear,
See here, see here,
Our mittens we have found!

Found your mittens,
Your clever kittens,
Then you shall have some pie.
Purr, purr, purr,
Oh let us have some pie.

Потеряли котятки
На дороге перчатки
И в слезах прибежали домой:
-Мама, мама, прости,
Мы не можем найти,
Мы не можем найти перчатки!

-Потеряли перчатки
Вот дурные котятки!
Я вам нынче не дам пирога.
Мяу-мяу, не дам,
Мяу-мяу, не дам,
Я вам нынче не дам пирога.

Побежали котятки,
Отыскали перчатки
И, cмеясь, прибежали домой:
-Мама, мама, не злись,
Потому что нашлись,
Потому что нашлись перчатки!

-Отыскали перчатки?
Вот спасибо, котятки!
Я за это вам дам пирога.
Мур-мур-мур, пирога.
Мур-мур-мур, пирога,
Я за это вам дам пирога!

Стих про алфавит — ABCDE

ABCDE Это моя семья
GHIJ Я люблю их каждый день
KLMNO Мама, папа, ребенок
PQRST Брат, сестра, как вы можете видеть
UVWXYZ Все эти люди — моя семья

Короткий легкий стих 3-5 лет — I love my cat

Я люблю своего кота.
Он теплый и толстый.
Мой кот — серый.
Он любит играть.

Короткий стих с переводом — I have a little turtle

У меня есть маленькая черепашка,
Она живет в коробке.
Она плавает в воде
И взбирается на камни.

Стих на английском про дружбу

I’ve got a friend

We like to play,

We play together

He always helps me

When I’m in need

For he’s my friend,

Good friend indeed.

У меня есть друг
Нам нравится играть,
Мы играем вместе
Каждый день.
Он всегда помогает мне
Когда я в чем-то нуждаюсь
Потому что он мой друг,
Действительно, хороший друг.

Стих для детей про собаку на английском

Мой пес не может говорить,
Но он может лаять!
Я возьму свою собаку
И пойду гулять в парк!

Легкий стих — I got a dog

I’ve got a dog,

His name is Jack.

His head is white,

His nose is black.

I take him out

Such fun we have!

We run and play.

Such clever tricks

Me dog can do.

I love my dog!

He loves me too!

У меня есть собака,
Его зовут Джек.
Его голова белая,
У него черный нос.
Я беру его с собой
Каждый день.
Как у нас весело!
Мы бегаем и играем.
Такие хитроумные трюки
Моя собака может это сделать.
Я люблю свою собаку!
Он тоже меня любит!

I found a cow

I found a cow!
How?

I found a bear!

A found a hen!

I found a bear!

I found a hen!

I found a cow!

Стих — This is a pig

Это хрюшка!
Она очень большая!
Ее цвет — розовый
Хорошая, я думаю!

I must

I mustn’t say ‘I can’t’

I mustn’t say ‘I won’t’.

I mustn’t say ‘I’m not’.

I mustn’t say ‘I don’t’.

   I must say ‘I will’.

   I must say ‘I am’.

   I must say ‘I do’.

   I must say ‘I can’.

Я не должен говорить
«я не могу».
Я не должен говорить «я не буду’.
Я не должен говорить «я не такой’.
Я не должен говорить «я не хочу’.
Я должен сказать «Я сделаю’.
Я должен сказать «я есть’.
Я должен сказать ‘да’.
Я должен сказать ‘я могу’.

Стих — A duckling is a little duck.

Утенок — это маленькая утка.
Цыпленок — это маленький петух.
Котенок — это маленькая кошка.
Щенок — это маленькая собака.

Стих — How many fingers have I got?

How many fingers have I got?

Five on my right hand.

Five on my left hand.

How many fingers have I got?

Without your tongue

Without your tongue

You cannot talk.

Without your feet

You cannot walk.

Without your eyes.

You cannot see.

Without your heart

You cannot be.

ONLY  ONE  HEART

I’ve got two legs

With which I walk.

   I’ve got a tongue

   With which I talk.

I’ve got two eyes

With which I see.

   I’ve got one heart

   To live and be.

WHAT  DO  YOU WEAR?

What do you wear on your head?   A hat.

What do you wear on your head? A cap.

A hat and a cap.

A cap and a hat.

What do you wear on your feet?   Shoes.

What do you wear on your feet?  Boots.

Boots and shoes.

Shoes and boots.

What do you wear on your hands?  Gloves.

What do you wear on your hands?   Mittens.

Gloves and mittens.

Mittens and gloves.

What do you wear when it’s cold?  A sweater.

What do you wear when it’s cold?  A jacket.

A sweater and a jacket.

A jacket and a sweater.

What do you wear when it’s warm?  Shorts.

What do you wear when it’s warm?  A shirt.

Shorts and a shirt.

A shirt and shorts.

SHOES  AND  BOOTS

Shoes and boots,

Boots and shoes,

Come and buy

The size you use.

   Try them on

   Before you choose,

   Shoes you boots,

   Boots, and shoes.

(1907 — 1973)

Emily Jane Brontë
(1818 — 1848)

Lord Byron
(1788 — 1824)

Lewis Carroll
(1832 — 1898)

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(1772 — 1834)

William Henry Davies
(1871 — 1940)

John Keats
(1795 — 1821)

Pablo Neruda
(1904 — 1973)

Edgar Allan Poe
(1809 — 1849)

Christina Georgina Rossetti
(1830 — 1894)

William Shakespeare
(1564 — 1616)

Walt Whitman
(1819 — 1892)

William Wordsworth
(1770 — 1850)

Read by Tom Hiddleston

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

read by Tom Hiddleston

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that ‘s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair’d the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

(Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

read by Benedict Cumberbatch

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ‘twould win me

That with music loud and long

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Read by Tom Hiddleston

Love is like the wild rose briar,

Friendship, like the holly tree

The holly is dark when the rose briar blooms,

But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose briar is sweet in spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air

Yet wait till winter comes again

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now

And deck thee with the holly`s sheen

That when December blights thy brow

He still may leave thy garland green.

Read by Benedict Cumberbatch

— Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

— Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jujub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought

So rested he by the Tumtum gree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wook,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

— And has thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!

He chortled in his joy.

— Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

(William Henry Davies)

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Ode to a Nightingale

(1819 John Keats)

read by Benedict Cumberbatch

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 

‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 

But being too happy in thine happiness, 

That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees, 

In some melodious plot 

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, 

Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 

O for a draught of vintage! that hath been 

Cool’d a long age in the deep-delvèd earth, 

Tasting of Flora and the country-green, 

Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! 

O for a beaker full of the warm South! 

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, 

And purple-stainèd mouth; 

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, 

And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 

What thou among the leaves hast never known, 

The weariness, the fever, and the fret 

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, 

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 

And leaden-eyed despairs; 

Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 

Away! away! for I will fly to thee, 

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, 

But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: 

Already with thee! tender is the night, 

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, 

Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays 

But here there is no light, 

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown 

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, 

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, 

But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet 

Wherewith the seasonable month endows 

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; 

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; 

Fast-fading violets cover’d up in leaves; 

And mid-May’s eldest child, 

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, 

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time 

I have been half in love with easeful Death, 

Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, 

To take into the air my quiet breath; 

Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 

To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 

In such an ecstasy! 

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— 

To thy high requiem become a sod. 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! 

No hungry generations tread thee down; 

The voice I hear this passing night was heard 

In ancient days by emperor and clown: 

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 

She stood in tears amid the alien corn; 

The same that ofttimes hath 

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam 

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell 

To toll me back from thee to my sole self! 

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well 

As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. 

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 

Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep 

In the next valley-glades: 

Was it a vision, or a waking dream? 

Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?

(Edgar Allan Poe)

read by Christopher Walken

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door —

Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —

This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you’ — here I opened wide the door; —

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —

‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore —

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —

Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before —

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’

Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he has sent thee

Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —

On this home by horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —

Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!’

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?’

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting —

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted — nevermore!

read by  Ralph Fiennes

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

read by Tilda Swinton

Keep your face there close.

When someone quotes the old poetic image

about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,

slowly loosen knot by knot the strings

of your robe.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,

don’t try to explain the miracle.

Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

When someone asks what it means

to “die for love,” point

If someone asks how tall I am, frown

and measure with your fingers the space

between the creases on your forehead.

The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.

When someone doesn’t believe that,

walk back into my house.

When lovers moan,

they’re telling our story.

I am a sky where spirits live.

Stare into this deepening blue,

while the breeze says a secret.

When someone asks what there is to do,

light the candle in his hand.Like this.

How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?

How did Jacob’s sight return?

A little wind cleans the eyes.

When Shams comes back from Tabriz,

he’ll put just his head around the edge

of the door to surprise us

Ode To the Sea

read by Ralph Fiennes

Surrounding the island 

But what sea? 

It’s always overflowing. 

Then no again,

In sea spray

And no again. 

It can’t be still.

My name is sea. 

It slaps the rocks 

And when they aren’t convinced, 

And soaks them 

And smothers them with kisses. 

With seven green tongues 

Of seven green dogs 

Or seven green tigers 

Or seven green seas,

Beating its chest,

Stammering its name, 

This is your name. 

Oh comrade ocean, 

Don’t waste time 

Getting so upset 

Help us instead. 

We are meager fishermen, 

Men from the shore 

Who are hungry and cold 

And you’re our foe.

Don’t beat so hard, 

Don’t shout so loud, 

Open your green coffers, 

Place gifts of silver in our hands.

Give us this day 

our daily fish.

I Like For You To Be Still

read by Glenn Close

I like for you to be still

It is as though you are absent

And you hear me from far away

And my voice does not touch you

It seems as though your eyes had flown away

And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth

As all things are filled with my soul

You emerge from the things

Filled with my soul

You are like my soul

A butterfly of dream

And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still

And you seem far away

It sounds as though you are lamenting

A butterfly cooing like a dove

And you hear me from far away

And my voice does not reach you

Let me come to be still in your silence

And let me talk to you with your silence

That is bright as a lamp

Simple, as a ring

You are like the night

With its stillness and constellations

Your silence is that of a star

As remote and candid

I like for you to be still

It is as though you are absent

Distant and full of sorrow

So you would’ve died

One word then, One smile is enough

And I’m happy;

Happy that it’s not true

O Captain! My Captain!

(Walt Whitman )

О Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

But О heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

О Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-for you the shores

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult О shores, and ring О bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

read by Helena Bonham Carter

Hear now a curious dream I dreamed last night

Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth.

I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled

Like overflowing Jordan in its youth:

It waxed and coloured sensibly to sight;

Till out of myriad pregnant waves there welled

Young crocodiles, a gaunt blunt-featured crew,

Fresh-hatched perhaps and daubed with birthday dew.

The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend

My closest friend would deem the facts untrue;

And therefore it were wisely left untold;

Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end.

Each crocodile was girt with massive gold

And polished stones that with their wearers grew:

But one there was who waxed beyond the rest,

Wore kinglier girdle and a kingly crown,

Whilst crowns and orbs and sceptres starred his breast.

All gleamed compact and green with scale on scale,

But special burnishment adorned his mail

And special terror weighed upon his frown;

His punier brethren quaked before his tail,

Broad as a rafter, potent as a flail.

So he grew lord and master of his kin:

But who shall tell the tale of all their woes?

An execrable appetite arose,

He battened on them, crunched, and sucked them in.

He knew no law, he feared no binding law,

But ground them with inexorable jaw:

The luscious fat distilled upon his chin,

Exuded from his nostrils and his eyes,

While still like hungry death he fed his maw;

Till every minor crocodile being dead

And buried too, himself gorged to the full,

He slept with breath oppressed and unstrung claw.

Oh marvel passing strange which next I saw:

In sleep he dwindled to the common size,

And all the empire faded from his coat.

Then from far off a wingèd vessel came,

Swift as a swallow, subtle as a flame:

I know not what it bore of freight or host,

But white it was as an avenging ghost.

It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;

Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote

It seemed to tame the waters without force

Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:

Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,

The prudent crocodile rose on his feet

And shed appropriate tears and wrung his hands.

What can it mean? you ask. I answer not

And tell it as I saw it on the spot.

The Seven Ages of Man

read by Benedict Cumberbatch

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.

At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;

And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snailUnwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part.

The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slippered pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,I

s second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Love And Friendship

She Walks In Beauty

Ode to a Nightingale

Ode To the Sea

I Like For You To Be Still

The Seven Ages of Man

O Captain! My Captain!

Стихотворения различных авторов в озвучке известных актеров

Главная>Стихотворения на английском

Стихотворения на английском языке известных поэтов

На этой странице вы найдёте различные стихотворения на английском языке известных англоязычных поэтов. Расположены в алфавитном порядке. В скобках количество стихотворений поэта.

Список поэтов по алфавиту:

Adams, Sarah Fuller Flower/ Сара Фуллер Флауэр Адамс (5)

Addison, Joseph/ Джозеф Аддисон (18)

Akhmatova, Anna/ Анна Ахматова (100)

Allston, Washington/ Вашингтон Олстон (19)

Auden, Wystan Hugh/ Уистан Хью Оден (16)

Beaumont, Francis. Фрэнсис Бомонт (13)

Blake, William/ Уильям Блэйк (134)

Brautigan, Richard/ Ричард Бротиган (28)

Brown, Fleda/ Фледа Браун (2)

Bryant, William Cullen/ Уильям Куллен Брайнт (133)

Carroll, Lewis/ Льюис Кэролл (49)

Cartwright, William/ Вильям Картрайт (6)

Cavalieri, Grace/ Грэйс Кавальери (2)

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor/ Тайлор Колеридж (170)

Constable, Henry/ Генри Констебле (6)

Corso, Gregory/ Грегори Корсо (16)

Crane, Stephen/ Стефен Крейн (112)

Creeley, Robert/ Роберт Крили (41)

Cummings, Edward/ Эдвард Каммингс (40)

Dickinson, Emily/ Эмили Дикинсон (24)

Eliot, Thomas Stearns/ Томас Стернз Элиот (18)

Emerson, Ralph Waldo/ Ральф Уолдо Эмерсон (101)

Ferlinghetti, Lawrence/ Лоуренс Ферлингетти (24)

Frost, Robert/ Роберт Фрост (129)

Ginsberg, Allen/ Аллен Гинсберг (5)

Gray, Thomas/ Томас Грей (12)

Harrington, Sir John/ Джон Харингтон (6)

Harte, Francis Bret/ Брет Харте (116)

Herbert, George/ Джордж Херберт (82)

Hopkins, Gerard Manley/ Джерард Хопкинс (1)

Hughes, Langston/ Ленгстон Хьюз (85)

Ingelow, Jean/ Джин Инджелоу (13)

Jarrell, Randall/ Рэндалл Джаррелл (27)

Jeffers, Robinson/ Робинсон Джефферс (7)

Levertov, Denise/ Дениз Левертов (6)

Linett, Deena/ Деена Линетт (3)

Longfellow, Henry/ Генри Лонгфелло (29)

Markowicz, Leon/ Леон Маркович (2)

Masters, Edgar Lee/ Эдгар Ли Мастерс (16)

Moore, Thomas/ Томас Мор (1)

Muldoon, Paul/ Пол Малдун (3)

Pasternak, Boris/ Борис Пастернак (5)

Poe, Allan Edgar/ Эдгар Аллан По (5)

Pound, Ezra Loomis/ Эзра Лумис Паунд (20)

Robinson, Edwin Arlington/ Эдвин Эрлингтон Робинсон (6)

Robinson, Jeffers/ Джефферс Робинсон (128)

Rossetti, Christina/ Кристина Росетти (46)

Sandburg, Carl/ Карл Сэндберг (225)

Simic, Charles/ Чарлз Симик (28)

Spenser, Edmund/ Эдмунд Спенсер (1)

Tate, Allen/ Аллен Тейт (2)

Thomas, Dylan Marlais/ Дилан Марлайс Томас (96)

Vysotsky, Vladimir/ Владимир Высоцкий (13)

Whitman, Walt/ Уолт Уитмен (7)

Whittier, John Greenleaf/ Джон Гринлиф Уиттьер (28)

Wordsworth, William/ Уильям Вордсворт (26)

На этой странице вы найдете стихи на английском языке для конкурса чтецов для школьников 5-11 класса, а также для взрослых. Это довольно серьезные стихи английских авторов.

Стих — Be A Friend (Edgar A. Guest)

Be a friend. You don’t need money;
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who’s unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone’s friend.

Be a friend. You don’t need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who’s bravely trying,
Pity him who’s sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.

Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what’s merely self-endeavor.
You’ll have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You’ll be richer in the end
Than a prince, if you’re a friend.

Стих на конкурс — English language

As fresh as Spring,
As fast as sky bird’s flight,
Sonorous string
Of English flowers bright.
Like water waves in ocean,
Strongest stream
Stirs up both deep emotion
And a dream.
Inclement climate
Caused a foggy speech,
Whose verbal raiment
Is fabulous reach.
A Gentle Gerund,
English nobleman
Like lofty parent
Likes to make a ban.
Phonetics is
A very freakish one,
Capricious Miss,
She likes to make a pun.
Inflexion makes a thought:
What would it be,
If it preferred
“To be” than “not to be”?
And English is a world
Of Ending “Ing”.
From word to word
It’s a really good thing.
The Ages of History
Have changed. They left a scar.
Though language mystery
We see all that is far.
While English seems
To be not light, not dun,
It does have seams,
But is a pretty one!

Перевод — Английский язык

Свеж как Весна,
Как быстрых птиц полёт,
Язык-струна,
Английский весь цветёт.
Как в океане
Волн водоворот,
Поток желанный
Жизнь мечте даёт.
Суровый климат сделал
Речь туманной,
Её одел
Богатством несказанным.
Герундий Гордый,
Словно дворянин,
Под стать английским лордам,
Сложно с ним.
И Мисс Фонетика –
Капризная весьма,
Игру в поэтике
Словам даёт сама.
А с Окончаньем что бы
Говорить,
Коль предпочло бы
«Быть» вдруг, чем «Не быть»?
Зато повсюду «инг» лишь
Окончанье.
Английский – «Инглиш»,
Таково названье.
Прошли века,
Неизгладим их след
Для языка,
В нём шрамы прошлых лет.
Ни свет хрустальный
Сей язык, ни тьма.
Не идеален,
Но хорош весьма!

Стих английский — Happiness

In my town I see the snow.
It is white and light.
I remember all I know
And I want to write.
Then I lift my eyes to sky.
It is full of shine.
And I also know why
All I see – is mine.
Happiness is only thing
That you can’t receive
From the world, and you should think,
And you should believe
That you’re happy. Then you see
That you only find:
Happiness can only be
In your own mind.

Перевод — Счастье

Стих — My school is cool

My school is cool
And it is full
Of many girls and boys,
Who make much noise
But have a choice
To play all time
Or learn a rhyme,
Or read a book,
To sew or cook.
We love school all
And wait for fall
To meet together here,
To teach and study near.

My School
I love my school,
I love my class
And everyone
Who teaches us.
We go to school,
We are all friends,
We smile and laugh
When shaking hands.

THE CLOCK

There’s a neat little clock,
  In the schoolroom it stands,
And it points to the time
  With its two little hands.

And may we, like the clock,
  Keep a face clean and bright,
With hands ever ready
  To do what is right.

Стих для детей на конкурс чтецов — BUTTERFLY

Butterfly, butterfly,
Sit on my chin,
Your wings are like tinsel,
So yellow and thin.

Butterfly, butterfly,
Give me a kiss;
If you give me a dozen
There’s nothing amiss.

Butterfly, butterfly,
Off to the flowers, —
Wee, soulless sprite
Of the long summer hours.

Короткий стих для школьников — I know, we live to create

I know, we live to create,
But we should be patient and strong.
Although we did not use to wait,
The way to the top can be long.
The time is the law for all things:
All things are the start and the ending.
It teaches to live and it brings
Solution to problems by waiting.
But it does not mean only wait,
You should grow high like a tree.
I know, we live to create
Because it’s a chance to be free.

Стих для детей и взрослых чтецам — An Owl

Who created pretty owl,
Such a nice intriguing fowl,
Very lively, bright and clever,
Which has failure hardly ever?
Which remembers all the wood
In the native neighbourhood,
With sharp pounces and strong clutch.
It likes hunting very much.
Very curious and wise
With such pretty round eyes
Which are sensitive to light
And can see all in the night,
And the spotted brown tinge
Plumage hides the softest fringe
Which protect owl’s quick ear
That is hidden round and near
Owl’s funny round face
That is bordered with lace.
Owl’s interesting speech
Is a loud profound screech.
Owl’s wings are big and wide
In the flying they can glide.
I have hold owl on my hand,
It was glad when there I went.
What a nice and clever bird
Has created Greatest God!

Стих — Birds

Birds are singing round my window,
Tunes the sweetest ever heard,
And I hang my cage there daily,
But I never catch a bird.

So with thoughts my brain is peopled,
And they sing there all day long:
But they will not fold their pinions
In the little cage of Song.

Стих — Spring in the city

I saw a crocus blooming in the park,
I felt a hint of magic in the air,
I heard faint music sighing everywhere,
And so, as all the world, grew softly dark –
I found again the hope that never dies,
And hungrily, with out-flung arms, I came
Once more to you. And when you spoke my name
I read springtime eternal in your eyes!

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star!
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the glorious sun is set,
When the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle all the night.
In the dark-blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Guides the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star!

Стихи английских поэтов для учащихся средних и старших классов. English poems to listen, read and learn. Кэтрин Дж. Поллок, Зимина М. С., Катенин С. Б. (2006)

Данное пособие рекомендуется для школ с углубленным изучением английского языка, колледжей и неязыковых вузов.
Книга предназначена для совершенствования навыков произношения и правильной интонации английской речи. Прилагается компакт-диск.