經(jīng)典散文閱讀

　　英語(yǔ)散文以優(yōu)美的語(yǔ)言、流暢的句子、生動(dòng)的描述,給人以美的享受,滿足人類(lèi)心靈的要求,具有很高的審美屬性。下面學(xué)習(xí)啦小編為大家?guī)?lái)經(jīng)典散文閱讀，歡迎大家閱讀!

　　經(jīng)典散文閱讀：一杯牛奶

　　One day, a poor boy who was trying to pay his way through school by selling goods door to door found that he only had one dime left. He was hungry so he decided to beg for a meal at the next house.

　　However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”

　　“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught me never to accept pay for a kindness.” He said, “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but it also increased his faith in God and the human race. He was about to give up and quit before this point.

　　Years later the young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where specialists can be called in to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly, now famous was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately, he rose and went down through the hospital hall into her room.

　　Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room and determined to do his best to save her life. From that day on, he gave special attention to her case.

　　After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it and then wrote something on the side. The bill was sent to her room. She was afraid to open it because she was positive that it would take the rest of her life to pay it off. Finally she looked, and the note on the side of the bill caught her attention. She read these words

　　“Paid in full with a glass of milk.”

　　(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly

　　Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she prayed silently: “Thank You, God. Your love has spread through human hearts and hands.”

　　一天，一個(gè)貧窮的小男孩為了攢夠?qū)W費(fèi)正挨家挨戶地推銷(xiāo)商品。饑寒交迫的他摸遍全身，卻只有一角錢(qián)。于是他決定向下一戶人家討口飯吃。

　　然而，當(dāng)一位美麗的年輕女子打開(kāi)房門(mén)的時(shí)候，這個(gè)小男孩卻有點(diǎn)不知所措了。他沒(méi)有要飯，只乞求給他一口水喝。這位女子看到他饑餓的樣子，就倒了一大杯牛奶給他。男孩慢慢地喝完牛奶，問(wèn)道：“我應(yīng)該付多少錢(qián)?”

　　年輕女子微笑著回答：“一分錢(qián)也不用付。我媽媽教導(dǎo)我，施以愛(ài)心，不圖回報(bào)。”男孩說(shuō)：“那么，就請(qǐng)接受我由衷的感謝吧!”說(shuō)完，霍華德•凱利就離開(kāi)了這戶人家。此時(shí)的他不僅自己渾身是勁兒，而且更加相信上帝和整個(gè)人類(lèi)。本來(lái)，他都打算放棄了。

　　數(shù)年之后，那位女子得了一種罕見(jiàn)的重病，當(dāng)?shù)蒯t(yī)生對(duì)此束手無(wú)策。最后，她被轉(zhuǎn)到大城市醫(yī)治，由專(zhuān)家會(huì)診治療。大名鼎鼎的霍華德•凱利醫(yī)生也參加了醫(yī)療方案的制定。當(dāng)他聽(tīng)到病人來(lái)自的那個(gè)城鎮(zhèn)的名字時(shí)，一個(gè)奇怪的念頭霎時(shí)間閃過(guò)他的腦際。他馬上起身直奔她的病房。

　　身穿手術(shù)服的凱利醫(yī)生來(lái)到病房，一眼就認(rèn)出了恩人?；氐綍?huì)診室后，他決心一定要竭盡所能來(lái)治好她的病。從那天起，他就特別關(guān)照這個(gè)對(duì)自己有恩的病人。

　　經(jīng)過(guò)艱苦的努力，手術(shù)成功了。凱利醫(yī)生要求把醫(yī)藥費(fèi)通知單送到他那里，他看了一下，便在通知單的旁邊簽了字。當(dāng)醫(yī)藥費(fèi)通知單送到她的病房時(shí)，她不敢看。因?yàn)樗_信，治病的費(fèi)用將會(huì)花費(fèi)她整個(gè)余生來(lái)償還。最后，她還是鼓起勇氣，翻開(kāi)了醫(yī)藥費(fèi)通知單，旁邊的那行小字引起了她的注意，她不禁輕聲讀了出來(lái)：

　　“醫(yī)藥費(fèi)已付：一杯牛奶。”

　　(簽名)霍華德•凱利醫(yī)生

　　喜悅的淚水溢出了她的眼睛，她默默地祈禱著：“謝謝你，上帝，你的愛(ài)已通過(guò)人類(lèi)的心靈和雙手傳播了。”

　　經(jīng)典散文閱讀：磯鷂帶來(lái)歡樂(lè)

　　She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

　　“Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. “I’m building,” she said.

　　“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.

　　“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”

　　That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. “That’s a joy,” the child said.

　　“It’s a what?” I asked.

　　“It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach.

　　“Good-bye joy,” I muttered to myself, “hello pain,” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

　　“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.

　　“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”

　　“Mine’s Wendy I’m six.”

　　“Hi, Windy.” She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

　　“Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”

　　The days and weeks that followed belonged to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother.

　　The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper,” I said to myself, gathering up my coat.

　　The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

　　“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”

　　“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

　　“I don’t know, you say.”

　　“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.

　　The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”

　　“Then let’s just walk.” Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked.

　　“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter.

　　“Where do you go to school?”

　　“I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

　　Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

　　“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

　　“Why?” she asked.

　　I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, “My God, why was I saying this to a little child?”

　　“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”

　　“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and — oh, go away!”

　　“Did it hurt? “ she inquired.

　　“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.

　　“When she died?”

　　“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

　　A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

　　“Hello,” I said. “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

　　“Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.”

　　“Not at all — she’s a delightful child,” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. “Where is she?”

　　“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.” Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

　　“She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly” Her voice faltered.

　　“She left something for you if only I could find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”

　　I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with “MR. P” printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues — a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:

　　A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY

　　Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

　　The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words — one for each year of her life — that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand — who taught me the gift of love.

　　我第一次和她在那個(gè)海灘上相遇時(shí)，她整六歲。這個(gè)海灘離我的住處約有三、四英里。每當(dāng)我心情壓抑，感到煩惱時(shí)，就驅(qū)車(chē)上那兒去。當(dāng)時(shí)她正在用沙子堆積一個(gè)城堡似的東西?？吹轿襾?lái)，她抬起頭來(lái)望著我，那雙眼睛像大海般深邃、湛藍(lán)。

　　“您好!”她說(shuō)。我點(diǎn)了點(diǎn)頭作為回答，說(shuō)實(shí)在的，我沒(méi)有心思跟一個(gè)小女孩費(fèi)神。“我在蓋房子呢!”她又說(shuō)。

　　“我看見(jiàn)了。這蓋的是什么房子呢?”我心不在焉地問(wèn)道。

　　“噢，我不知道，我就是喜歡摸沙子的感覺(jué)。”

　　這倒有意思，我邊想邊脫掉鞋子。驀地，一只磯鷂從一旁滑翔而過(guò)。孩子見(jiàn)了說(shuō)：“那是歡樂(lè)。”

　　“是什么?”

　　“是歡樂(lè)，磯鷂能給人們帶來(lái)歡樂(lè)，媽媽說(shuō)的。” 那只磯鷂順著海濱飛走了。

　　“再見(jiàn)了，快樂(lè)，”我自言自語(yǔ)道，“痛苦來(lái)臨了。”并轉(zhuǎn)身走開(kāi)。我很沮喪，因?yàn)槲椰F(xiàn)在的生活一團(tuán)糟。

　　“您叫什么名字啊?”她還不罷休。

　　“羅伯特，”我回答，“我叫羅伯特·彼得森。”

　　“我叫溫迪，”──聽(tīng)上去卻像Windy(風(fēng)的意思)。“我六歲了。”

　　“你好，大風(fēng)，”我叫道。“您真逗!”她咯咯地笑了。盡管心緒不佳，我也不由得笑了起來(lái)，一邊往前走著。她那清脆悅耳的笑聲依然追隨著我。

　　“您下次再來(lái)，彼先生。咱們?cè)倏鞓?lè)地玩一天!”她喊著。

　　那以后的好幾個(gè)星期，我忙得不可開(kāi)交，沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)閑暇：負(fù)責(zé)一群調(diào)皮搗蛋的童子軍，參加家長(zhǎng)教師聯(lián)誼會(huì);還要照顧生病的母親。

　　一個(gè)陽(yáng)光明媚的上午，我洗完碗碟，心想：“我需要一只磯鷂。”于是穿上外套向海灘走去。

　　海岸不斷變化的芳香依然在等著我。微風(fēng)有點(diǎn)刺骨，但是我依然大步走著，我多么渴望能重新處于安靜寧謐之中啊!我早已忘掉了那個(gè)孩子，所以當(dāng)她出現(xiàn)在我面前時(shí)，不免吃了一驚。

　　“您好，彼先生!”她說(shuō)。“你想玩嗎?”

　　“你想玩什么?”帶著一絲厭煩，我反問(wèn)她。

　　“我不知道，您說(shuō)吧。”

　　“猜字謎怎么樣?”我挖苦地問(wèn)。

　　“我不知道那是什么，”她說(shuō)著，又發(fā)出一陣銀鈴般的笑聲。

　　“那么，咱們一塊兒走走吧。”我望著她，看到了嬌嫩而皙白的臉色。“你住在哪兒?”我問(wèn)她。

　　“那邊!”她用小手指著遠(yuǎn)處一排夏季避暑的小別墅。我感到納悶。現(xiàn)在是冬天啊。

　　“你在哪兒上學(xué)呢?”

　　“我不上學(xué)，媽媽說(shuō)我們?cè)诙燃佟?rdquo;我們漫步走上海灘，她一路上嘰嘰喳喳地說(shuō)著小姑娘們的話。 可是，我卻心事重重。當(dāng)我要回家時(shí)，溫迪說(shuō)這是快樂(lè)的一天。奇怪的是，我的心情也感到舒坦多了。于是，我同意的報(bào)以一笑。

　　三星期后的一天，我神思恍惚，幾乎是瘋狂似地沖向我的海灘。我根本不想理睬溫迪。