英语简单晨读美文
英语简单晨读美文（精选15篇）
英语简单晨读美文 篇1
Each spring brings a new blossom of wildflowers in the ditches along the highway I travel daily to work. There is one particular blue flower that has always caught my eyes. I've noticed that it blooms only in the morning hours, the afternoon sun is too warm for it. Every day for approximately two weeks, I see those beautiful flowers. This spring, I started a wildflower garden in our yard. I can look out of the kitchen window while doing the dishes and see the flowers. I've often thought that those lovely blue flowers from the ditches would look great in that bed alongside other wildflowers. Everyday I drove past the flowers thinking, “I'll stop on my way home and dig them.”
“Gee, I don't want to get my good ” Whatever the reason, I never stopped to dig them. My husband even gave me a folding shovel one year for my trunk to be used for that expressed purpose. One day on my way home from work, I was saddened to see that the highway department had mowed the ditches and the pretty blue flowers were gone. I thought to myself, “Way to go, you waited too long. You should have done it when you first saw them blooming this spring.” A week ago we were shocked and saddened to learn that my oldest sister-in-law has a terminal brain tumor. She is 20 years older than my husband and unfortunately, because of age and distance, we haven’t been as close as we all would have liked. I couldn’t help but see the connection between the pretty blue flowers and the relationship between my husband's sister and us. I do believe that God has given us some time left to plant some wonderful memories that will bloom every year for us. And yes, if I see the blue flowers again, you can bet I'll stop and transplant them to my wildflower garden.
英语简单晨读美文 篇2
春天正值青春年华
There are lives that have bread in abundance and yet are starved; with barns and warehouses filled, with shelves and larders laden they are empty and hungry. No man need envy them; their feverish, restless whirl in the dust of publicity is but the search for a satisfaction never to be found in things. They are called rich in a world where no others are more truly, pitiably poor; having all, they are yet lacking in all because they have neglected the things within. The abundance of bread is the cause of many a man's deeper hunger. Having known nothing of the discipline that develops life's hidden sources of satisfaction, nothing of the struggle in which deep calls unto deep and the true life finds itself, he spends his days seeking to satisfy his soul with furniture, with houses and lands, with yachts and merchandise, seeking to feed his heart on things, a process of less promise and reason than feeding a snapping turtle on thoughts. It takes many of us altogether too long to learn that you cannot find satisfaction so long as you leave the soul out of your reckoning. If the heart be empty the life cannot be filled. The flow must cease at the faucet if the fountains go dry. The prime, the elemental necessities of our being are for the life rather than the body, its house. But, alas, how often out of the marble edifice is
sues the poor emaciated inmate, how out of the life having many things comes that which amounts to nothing. The essential things are not often those which most readily strike our blunt senses. We see the shell first. To the undeveloped mind the material is all there is. But looking deeper into life there comes an awakening to the fact and the significance of the spiritual, the feeling that the reason, the emotions, the joys and pains that have nothing to do with things, the ties that knit one to the infinite, all of which constitute the permanent elements of life.
英语简单晨读美文 篇3
I was up before the sunrise one October morning, and away through the wild and the woodland. The rising of the sun was noble in the cold and warmth of it; peeping down the spread of light, he raised his shoulder heavily over the edge of gray mountain and wavering length of upland. Beneath his gaze the dew-fogs dipped and crept to the hollow places, then stole away in line and column, holding skirts and clinging subtly at the sheltering corners where rock hung over grass-land, while the brave lines of the hills cam
e forth, one beyond other gliding. The woods arose, like drapery of awakened mountains, stately with a depth of awe, and memory of the tempests. Autumn's mellow hand was upon them, as they owned already, touched with gold and red and olive, and their joy towards the sun was less to a bridegroom than a father. Yet before the floating impress of the woods could clear itself, suddenly the gladsome light leaped over hill and valley, casting amber, blue, and purple, and a tint of rich red rose, according to the scene they lit on, and the curtain flung around; yet all alike dispelling fear and the cloven hoof of darkness, all on the wings of hope advancing, and proclaiming, "God is here!" Then life and joy sprang reassured from every crouching hollow; every flower and bud and bird had a fluttering sense of them, and all the flashing of God's gaze merged into soft beneficence. So, perhaps, shall break upon us that eternal morning, when crag and chasm shall be no more, neither hill and valley, nor great ocean; when glory shall not scare happiness, neither happiness envy glory; but all things shall arise, and shine in the light of the Father's countenance, because itself is risen.最好的作品
美丽的秋天作文英语简单晨读美文 篇4
感恩老师手抄报文字I'm 16. The other night while I was busy thinking about important social issues, like what to do over the weekend, I overheard my parents talking about my future. My dad was upset—not the usual stuff that he and Mom worry about, like which college I'm going to, how far away it is from home and how much it's going to cost. Instead, he was upset about the world his generation is turning over to mine. He sounded like this: "There will be a pandemic that kills millions, a devastating energy crisis, a horrible worldwide depression and a nuclear explosion set off in anger." As I lay on the living room couch, starting to worry about the future my father was describing, I found myself looking at some old family photos. There was a picture of my grandfather in his uniform. He was a member of the war class. Next to his picture were photos of my great-grandparents. Seeing those pictures made me feel a lot better. I believe tomorrow will be better, not worse. Those pictures helped me understand why. I considered some of the awful things my grandparents and great-grandparents had seen in their lifetimes: two world wars, killer flu, a nuclear bomb. But they saw other things, too, better things: the end of two world wars, the polio vaccine, passage of the civil rights laws. I believe that my generatio
n will see better things, too —that we will witness the time when AIDS is cured and cancer is defeated; when the Middle East will find peace, and the Cubs win the World Series—probably only once. I will see things as inconceivable to me today as a moon shot was to my grandfather when he was 16, or the Internet to my father when he was 16. Ever since I was a little kid, whenever I've had a lousy day, my dad would put his arm around me and promise me that "tomorrow will be a better day." I challenged my father once, "How do you know that?" He said, "I just do." I believed him. As I listened to my Dad talking that night, so worried about what the future holds for me and my generation, I wanted to put my arm around him, and tell him what he always told me: "Don't worry Dad, tomorrow will be a better day."
英语简单晨读美文 篇5
One day thirty years ago Marseilles lay in the burning sun. A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarity in southern France than at any other time before or since.
Everything in Marseilles and about Marseilles had stared at the fervid sun, and had been stared at in return, until a staring habit had become universal there. Strangers were stared out of countenance by staring white houses, staring white streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills from which verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not fixedly staring and glaring were the vines drooping under their loads of grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air barely moved their faint leaves. The universal stare made the eyes ache.
Towards the distant blue of the Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved by light clouds of mist slowly rising from the evaporation of the sea, but it softened nowhere else. Far away the dusty vines overhanging wayside cottages, and the monotonous wayside avenues of parched trees without shade, dropped beneath the stare of earth and sky. So did the horses with drowsy bells, in long files of carts, creeping slowly towards the interior; so did their recumbent drivers, when they were awake, which rarely happened; so did the exhausted laborers in the fields. Everything that lived or grew was oppressed by the glare; except the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone walls, and cicada, chirpin
g its dry hot chirp, like a rattle. The very dust was scorched brown, and something quivered in the atmosphere as if the air itself were panting. Blinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and drawn to deep out the stare.
>玄阮隆
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