小学英语安徒生童话系列(八)TheChildintheGrave墓中的孩子阅读素材
安徒生童话故事第8篇：海的女儿TheLittleMermaid
安徒生童话故事第8篇：海的女儿TheLittleMermaid引导语：安徒生童话故事，大家都看过哪些？下面是小编收集的海的女儿的中英文版本，与大家分享。
在海的远处，水是那么蓝，像最美丽的矢车菊花瓣，同时又是那么清，像最明亮的玻璃。
然而它是很深很深，深得任何锚链都达不到底。
要想从海底一直达到水面，必须有许多许多教堂尖塔一个接着一个地联起来才成。
海底的人就住在这下面。
不过人们千万不要以为那儿只是一片铺满了白砂的海底。
不是的，那儿生长着最奇异的树木和植物。
它们的枝干和叶子是那么柔软，只要水轻微地流动一下，它们就摇动起来，好像它们是活着的东西。
所有的大小鱼儿在这些枝子中间游来游去，像是天空的飞鸟。
海里最深的地方是海王宫殿所在的处所。
它的墙是用珊瑚砌成的，它那些尖顶的高窗子是用最亮的琥珀做成的;不过屋顶上却铺着黑色的蚌壳，它们随着水的流动可以自动地开合。
这是怪好看的，国为每一颗蚌壳里面含有亮晶晶的珍珠。
随便哪一颗珍珠都可以成为皇后帽子上最主要的装饰品。
住在那底下的海王已经做了好多年的鳏夫，但是他有老母亲为他管理家务。
她是一个聪明的女人，可是对于自己高贵的出身总是感到不可一世，因此她的尾巴上老戴着一打的牡蛎——其余的显贵只能每人戴上半打。
除此以外，她是值得大大的称赞的，特别是因为她非常爱那些小小的海公主——她的一些孙女。
她们是六个美丽的孩子，而她们之中，那个顶小的要算是最美丽的了。
她的皮肤又光又嫩，像玫瑰的花瓣，她的眼睛是蔚蓝色的，像最深的湖水。
不过，跟其他的公主一样，她没有腿：她身体的下部是一条鱼尾。
她们可以把整个漫长的日子花费在皇宫里，在墙上生有鲜花的大厅里。
那些琥珀镶的大窗子是开着的，鱼儿向着她们游来，正如我们打开窗子的时候，燕子会飞进来一样。
不过鱼儿一直游向这些小小的公主，在她们的手里找东西吃，让她们来抚摸自己。
宫殿外面有一个很大的花园，里边生长着许多火红和深蓝色的树木;树上的果子亮得像黄金，花朵开得像焚烧着的火，花枝和叶子在不停地摇动。
小学英语安徒生童话系列(八)TheBirdofPopularSong民歌的鸟阅读素材
The Bird of Popular Songby Hans Christian Andersen（1865）IT is winter-time.the earth wears a snowygarment，and looks like m arble hewn out of therock；the air is bright and clear；the wind is sharpas a well-tempered sword，and the trees stand likebranches of white coral or blooming almond twigs，and here it is keen as on the lofty Alps.the night is splendid in the gleam of the NorthernLights，and in t he glitter of innumerable twinklingstars.But we sit in the warm room，by the hot stove，and talk about t he old times.And welisten to this story：By the open sea was a giant's grave；and on the grave-mound sat a t midnight the spiritof the buried hero，who had been a king.The golden circlet gleamed on his brow，his hairfluttered in the wind ，and he was clad in steel and iron.He bent his head mournfully ，andsighed in deep sorrow，as an unquiet spirit might sigh.And a ship came sailing by.Presently the sailors lowered the anchor and landed.Amongthem was a singer，and he approached the royal s pirit，and said，“Why mournest thou，and wherefore dost thou suffer thus？”And the dead man answered，“No one has sung the deeds of my life；they are dead and forgotten.Song doth not carrythem forth over the lands，nor into the hea rts of men；therefore I have no rest and nopeace.”And he spoke of his works，and of his warlike deeds，which his c ontemporaries hadknown，but which had not been sung，because there was no singer among his companions.then the old bard struck the strings of his harp，and sang of the youthful courage of thehero，of the strength of the man，and of the GREatness of his good deeds.Then the face ofthe dead one gle amed like the margin of the cloud in the moonlight.Gladly and of goodcourage，the form arose in splendor and in majesty，and vanishe d like the glancing of thenorthern light.Nought was to be seen but the green turfy mound，with the stones on whichno Runic record ha s been graven；but at the last sound of the harp there soared ove r thehill，as though he had fluttered from the harp，a little bir d，a charming singing-bird，withringing voice of the thrush，with the moving voice pathos of the human heart，with a voicethat told of home，like the voice that is heard by the bird of passage.The singing-bird soaredaway，over mountain and valley，over field and wood—he was the Bird of Popular Song，whonever dies.We hear his song—we hear it now in the room while the white bees are swarming without，and the storm clutches the windows.The bird sings not alone the re quiem of heroes；hesings also sweet gentle songs of love，so many and so warm，of Northern fidelity and truth.He has stories in wor ds and in tones；he has proverbs and snatches of proverbs；songswh ich，like Runes laid under a dead man's tongue，force him to spea k；and thus PopularSong tells of the land of his birth.In the old heathen days，in the times of the Vikings，the popular speech was enshrinedin the harp of the bard.In the days of knightly castles，when the strongest fist held the scales of justice，whenonly might was right，and a peasant and a dog were of equal importance，where did the Birdof Song find shelte r and protection？Neither violence nor stupidity gave him a thought.But in the gabled window of the knightly castle，the lady of the castle sat with theparchment roll before her，and wrote down the ol d recollections in song and legend，whilenear her stood the old wom an from the wood，and the travelling peddler who went wanderingthrou gh the country.As these told their tales，there fluttered around t hem，with twitteringand song，the Bird of Popular Song，who never dies so long as the earth has a hill uponwhich his foot may rest .And now he looks in upon us and sings.Without are the night and the snow-storm.He laysthe Runes beneath our tongues，and we know t he land of our home.Heaven speaks to us inour native tongue，in the voice of the Bird of Popular Song.The old remembrances awake，the faded colors glow with a fresh lustre，and story and song pour us a blessed draught whichlifts up our minds and our thoughts，so that the evening becomes as a Christmas festival.the snow-flakes chase each other，the ice cracks，the storm rules without，for he hasthe might，he is lord—but not the LORD OF ALL.It is winter time.the wind is sharp as a two-edged sword，the snow-flakes chase eachother；it seems as though it had been snowing f or days and weeks，and the snow lies like aGREat mountain over the whole town，like a heavy dream of the winter night.Everything on the earth is hidden away，only the golden cross of the church，th e symbol of faith，arisesover the snow grave，and gleams in the b lue air and in the bright sunshine.And over the buried town fly the birds of heaven，the small and t he GREat；they twitterand they sing as best they may，each bird w ith his beak.First comes the band of sparrows：they pipe at every trifle in the streets and lanes，inthe nests and the houses；they have stories to tell about the front buildings and the backbuildings.“We know the buried town，”they say；“everything living in it is piep！piep！piep！”the black ravens and crows flew on over the white snow.“Grub，grub！”they cried. “There's something to be got down there；something toswallow，and that's most important.That's the opinion of most of them down there ，andthe opinion is goo-goo-good！”the wild swans come flying on whirring pinions，and sing of the no ble and the GREat，thatwill still sprout in the hearts of men，do wn in the town which is resting beneath its snowy veil.No death is there—life reigns yonder；we hear it on the notes tha t swell onward like thetones of the church organ，which seize us l ike sounds from the elf-hill，like the songs ofOssian，like the ru shing swoop of the wandering spirits'wings.What harmony！Thatharmony speaks to our hearts，and lifts up our souls！It is the Birdof Popular Song whomwe hear.And at this moment the warm breath of heaven blows down from the s ky.There are gaps inthe snowy mountains，the sun shines into the clefts；spring is coming，the birds arereturning，and new races ar e coming with the same home sounds in their hearts.Hear the story of the year：“The night of the snow-storm，the heavy dream of the winternight，all shall be dissolved，all shall rise again in the beauteous not es of the Bird of PopularSong，who never dies！”那是冬季。
安徒生童话-A GREAT GRIEF
We saw this from above；and，looked at from above，how many a grief of our own and of others can make us smile！That is the story，and whoever does not understand it may go and purchase a share in the tan－yard of the widow．
And all the children out of the lane——yes，even out of the little lane at the back——flocked to the place，and each gave a button．Many were noticed to go about on that afternoon with only one brace；but then they had seen Puggie's grave，and the sight was worth as much as that．
小学英语安徒生童话系列八TheAngel阅读素材2
the Angelby Hans Christian Andersen（1844）HENEVER a good child dies，an angel of Godcomes down from heaven，takes the dead child inhis arms，spreads out his GREat white wing s，andflies with him over all the places which the child hadloved during his life. Then he gathers a large handfulof flowers，which h e carries up to the Almighty，that they may bloom more brightly in heaven thanthey do on earth. A nd the Almighty presses theflowers to His heart，but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best，and it receives a voice，and is able to join the song of the chorus of bliss.“these words were spoken by an angel of God，as he carried a dead child up to heaven，and the child listened as if in a dream. Then they passed over wel l-known spots，where thelittle one had often played，and through be autiful gardens full of lovely flowers.“Which of these shall we take with us to heaven to be transplanted there？”asked theangel.Close by GREw a slender，beautiful，rose-bush，but some wicked han d had broken thestem，and the half-opened rosebuds hung faded and w ithered on the trailing branches.“Poor rose-bush！”said the child，“let us take it with us to heaven，that it may bloomabove in God 's garden.”the angel took up the rose-bush；then he kissed the child，and th e little one half openedhis eyes. The angel gathered also some beaut iful flowers，as well as a few humble buttercupsand heart's-ease.“Now we have flowers enough，”said the child；but the angel only nodded，he did not flyupward to heaven.It was night，and quite still in the GREat town. Here they remaine d，and the angelhovered over a small，narrow street，in which lay a large heap of straw，ashes，andsweepings from the houses of pe ople who had removed. There lay fragments of plates，piecesof plaste r，rags，old hats，and other rubbish not pleasant to see. Amidst all thisconfusion，the angel pointed to the pieces of a broken fl ower-pot，and to a lump of earthwhich had fallen out of it. The e arth had been kept from falling to pieces by the roots of awithered field-flower，which had been thrown amongst the rubbish.“We will take this with us，”said the angel，“I will tell you why as we fly along.”And as they flew the angel related the history.“Down in that narrow lane，in a low cellar，lived a poor sick b oy；he had been afflictedfrom his childhood，and even in his best days he could just manage to walk up and down theroom on crutches once or twice，but no more. During some days in summer，the sun beamswould lie on the floor of the cellar for about half an hour. In this spot the poor sick boy wouldsit warming himself in the suns hine，and watching the red blood through his delicate fingersas he held them before his face. Then he would say he had been out，yet he knew nothing ofthe GREen forest in its spring verdure，till aneighbor's son brought him a green bough from abeech-tree. This he would place over his head，and fancy that he was in the beech-wo od whilethe sun shone，and the birds carolled gayly. One spring day the neighbor's boy brought himsome field-flowers，and among them wa s one to which the root still adhered. This he carefullyplanted in a flower-pot，and placed in a window-seat near his bed. And the fl ower had beenplanted by a fortunate hand，for it grew，put forth fresh shoots，and blossomed everyyear. It became a splendid flower-ga rden to the sick boy，and his little treasure upon earth. Hewatered it，and cherished it，and took care it should have the benefit of every sunbeam thatfound its way into the cellar，from the earlie st morning ray to the evening sunset. The flowerentwined itself even in his dreams—for him it bloomed，for him spread its perfume. An d itgladdened his eyes，and to the flower he turned，even in deat h，when the Lord called him.He has been one year with God. During that time the flower has stood in the window，witheredand forgotte n，till at length cast out among the sweepings into the street，o n the day of thelodgers' removal. And this poor flower，withered an d faded as it is，we have added to ournosegay，because it gave m ore real joy than the most beautiful flower in the garden of aqueen .”“But how do you know all this？”asked the child whom the angel was carrying to heaven.“I know it，”said the angel，“because I myself was the poor sick boy who walked uponcrutches，a nd I know my own flower well.”then the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious happy f ace of the angel，and atthe same moment they found themselves in that heavenly home where all is happiness and joy.And God pressed the dead child to His heart，and wings were given him so that he co uld flywith the angel，hand in hand. Then the Almighty pressed all the flowers to His heart；but Hekissed the withered field-flower，and it received a voice. Then it joined in the song of theangels ，who surrounded the throne，some near，and others in a distant circle，but allequally happy. They all joined in the chorus of prai se，both GREat and small，—the good，happy child，and the poor field-flower，that once lay withered and cast away on a heap ofrubbish in a narrow，dark street.。
短篇安徒生童话故事英文版
短篇安徒生童话故事英文版短篇安徒生童话故事英文版 the Old Grave-Stone老墓碑IN a house， with a large courtyard， in aprovincial town，at that time of the year in whichpeople say the evenings are growing longer， afamily circle were gathered together at their oldhome. A lamp burned on the table，although theweather was mild and warm， and the long curtainshung down before the open windows， and withoutthe moon shone brightly in the dark-blue sky.But they were not talking of the moon， but of a large， old stone that lay below in thecourtyard not very far from the kitchen door. The maids often laid the clean copper saucepansand kitchen vessels on this stone， that they might dry in the sun，and the children werefond of playing on it. It was， in fact， an old grave-stone.“Yes，” said the master of the house，“I believe the stone came from the graveyard of theold church of the convent which was pulled down， and the pulpit， the monuments， and thegrave-stones sold. My father bought the latter; most of them were cut in two and used forpaving-stones， but that one stone was preserved whole，and laid in the courtyard.”“Any one can see that it is a grave-stone，” said the eldest of the children; “therepresentation of an hour-glass and part of the figure of an angel can still be traced，but theinscription beneath is quite worn out， excepting the name 'Preben，' and a large 'S' close byit，and a little farther down the name of 'Martha' can be easily read. But nothing more，andeven that cannot be seen unless it has been raining，or when we have washed the stone.”“Dear me! how singular. Why that must be the grave-stone of Preben Schwane and hiswife.”the old man who said this looked old enough to be the grandfather of all present in theroom.“Yes，” he continued，“these people were among the last who were buried in thechurchyard of the old convent. They were a very worthy old couple， I can remember them wellin the days of my boyhood. Every one knew them，and they were esteemed by all. They werethe oldest residents in the town， and people said they possessed a ton of gold， yet theywere always very plainly dressed， in the coarsest stuff， but with linen of the purestwhiteness. Preben and Martha were a fine old couple，and when they both sat on the bench，at the top of the steep stone steps， in front of their house， with the branches of the linden-tree waving above them，and nodded in a gentle，friendly way to passers by， it really madeone feel quite happy. They were very good to the poor; they fed them and clothed them， andin their benevolence there was judgment as well as true Christianity. The old woman diedfirst; that day is still quite vividly before my eyes. I was a little boy， and had accompanied myfather to the old man's house. Martha had fallen into the sleep of death just as we arrivedthere. The corpse lay in a bedroom，near to the one in which we sat， and the old man was inGREat distress and weeping like a child. He spoke to my father， and to a few neighbors whowere there， of how lonely he should feel now she was gone， and how good and true she， hisdead wife，had been during the number of years that they had passed through life together，and how they had become acquainted，and learnt to love each other. I was， as I have said，a boy， and only stood by and listened to what the others said; but it filledme with a strangeemotion to listen to the old man， and to watch how the color rose in his cheeks as he spokeof the days of their courtship， of how beautiful she was， and how many little tricks he hadbeen guilty of，that he might meet her. And then he talked of his wedding-day; and his eyesbrightened，and he seemed to be carried back， by his words， to that joyful time. And yetthere she was， lying in the next room， dead—an old woman， and he was an old man，speaking of the days of hope，long passed away. Ah， well， so it is; then I was but a child，and now I am old， as old as Preben Schwane then was. Time passes away， and all thingschanged. I can remember quite well the day on which she was buried， and how Old Prebenwalked close behind the coffin.“A few years before this time the old couple had had their grave-stone prepared， with aninscription and their names， but not the date. In the evening the stone was taken to thechurchyard，and laid on the grave. A year later it was taken up，that Old Preben might be laidby the side of his wife. They did not leave behind them wealth， they left behind them far lessthan people had believed they possessed; what there was went to families distantly related tothem， of whom， till then， no one had ever heard. The old house， with its balcony ofwickerwork， and the bench at the top of the high steps，under the lime-tree，wasconsidered， by the road-inspectors， too old and rotten to be left standing. Afterwards，when the same fate befell the convent church， and the graveyard was destroyed， the grave-stone of Preben and Martha， like everything else， was sold to whoever would buy it. And so ithappened that this stone was not cut in two as many others had been，but now lies in thecourtyard below，a scouring block for the maids，and aplayground for the children. Thepaved street now passes over the resting place of Old Preben and his wife; no one thinks ofthem any more now.”And the old man who had spoken of all this shook his head mournfully， and said，“Forgotten! Ah， yes， everything will be forgotten!” And then the conversation turned onother matters.But the youngest child in the room， a boy， with large，earnest eyes， mounted upon achair behind the window curtains，and looked out into the yard， where the moon was pouringa flood of light on the old gravestone，—the stone that had always appeared to him so dull andflat， but which lay there now like a GREat leaf out of a book of history. All that the boy hadheard of Old Preben and his wife seemed clearly defined on the stone，and as he gazed on it，and glanced at the clear， bright moon shining in the pure air， it was as if the light of God'scountenance beamed over His beautiful world.“Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!” still echo ed through the room， and in thesame moment an invisible spirit whispered to the heart of the boy，“Preserve carefully theseed that has been entrusted to thee， that it may grow and thrive. Guard it well. Throughthee，my child，shall the obliterated inscription on the old， weather-beaten grave-stone goforth to future generations in clear， golden characters. The old pair shall again wanderthrough the streets arm-in-arm， or sit with their fresh， healthy cheeks on the bench underthe lime-tree， and smile and nod at rich and poor. The seed of this hour shall ripen in thecourse of years into a beautiful poem. The beautiful and the good are never forgotten，theylive always in story or in song.”在一个小乡镇里，有一个人自己拥有一幢房子。
小学英语安徒生童话系列(八)TheChildintheGrave墓中的孩子阅读素材
the Child in the Graveby Hans Christian Andersen（1859）IT was a very sad day，and every heart in thehouse felt the deepe st grief；for the youngestchild，a boy of four years old，the jo y and hope ofhis parents，was dead.Two daughters，the elderof who m was going to be confirmed，stillremained：they were both good，charming girls；but the lost child always seems the dearest；andwhen it is youngest ，and a son，it makes the trialstill more heavy.The sisters mour ned as young hearts can mourn，and were especially grievedat the si ght of their parents'sorrow.The father's heart was bowed down，bu t the mothersunk completely under the deep grief.Day and night she had attended to the sick child，nursing and carrying it in her bosom，as a part of herself.She c ould not realize the fact thatthe child was dead，and must be laid in a coffin to rest in the ground.She thought God couldnot take her darling little one from her；and when it did happen notwithst anding her hopes andher belief，and there could be no more doubt o n the subject，she said in her feverishagony，“God does not know it.He has hard-hearted ministering spirits on e arth，who doaccording to their own will，and heed not a mother's prayers.”Thus in her GREat grief shefell away from her faith in G od，and dark thoughts arose in her mind respecting death and afutur e state.She tried to believe that man was but dust，and that wit h his life all existenceended.But these doubts were no support to her，nothing on which she could rest，and shesunk into the fathoml ess depths of despair.In her darkest hours she ceased to weep，an dthought not of the young daughters who were still left to her.Thetears of her husband fell onher forehead，but she took no notice of him；her thoughts were with her dead child；herwhole existence seemed wrapped up in the remembrances of the little one and of ev eryinnocent word it had uttered.the day of the little child's funeral came.For nights previously th e mother had not slept，but in the morning twilight of this day she sunk from weariness int o a deep sleep；in themean time the coffin was carried into a dis tant room，and there nailed down，that she mightnot hear the blows of the hammer.When she awoke，and wanted to see her child，the husband，with tears，said，“We have closed the coffin；it was necessary to do so.”“When God is so hard to me，how can I expect men to be better？”she said with groansand tears.the coffin was carried to the grave，and the disconsolate mother sa t with her youngdaughters.She looked at them，but she saw them no t；for her thoughts were far away fromthe domestic hearth.She gave herself up to her grief，and it tossed her to and fro，as thes ea tosses a ship without compass or rudder.So the day of the fune ral passed away，andsimilar days followed，of dark，wearisome pain. With tearful eyes and mournful glances，thesorrowing daughters and the afflicted husband looked upon her who would not hear their words of comfort；and，indeed，what comforting words could they speak，when they werethemselves so full of grief？It seemed as if she wou ld never again know sleep，and yet itwould have been her best frie nd，one who would have strengthened her body and pouredpeace into her soul.They at last persuaded her to lie down，and then she wou ld lie as still as ifshe slept.One night，when her husband listened，as he often did，to her br eathing，he quitebelieved that she had at length found rest and rel ief in sleep.He folded his arms and prayed，and soon sunk himself into healthful sleep；therefore he did not no tice that his wife arose，threw on her clothes，and glided silently from the house，to go w here her thoughtsconstantly lingered—to the grave of her child.She passed through the garden，to a pathacross a field that led to the churchyard.No one saw her as she walked，nor did she see anyone ；for her eyes were fixed upon the one object of her wanderings.It was a lovely starlightnight in the beginning of September，and t he air was mild and still.She entered thechurchyard，and stood by the little grave，which looked like a large nosegay of fragrantflo wers.She sat down，and bent her head low over the grave，as if she could see her childthrough the earth that covered him—her litt le boy，whose smile was so vividly before her，andthe gentle expre ssion of whose eyes，even on his sick-bed，she could not forget. How full ofmeaning that glance had been，as she leaned over him，holding in hers the pale hand whichhe had no longer strength to rai se！As she had sat by his little cot，so now she sat by hisgrav e；and here she could weep freely，and her tears fell upon it.“Thou wouldst gladly go down and be with thy child，”said a voic e quite close to her，—avoice that sounded so deep and clear，that it went to her heart.She looked up，and by her side stood a man wrapped in a black cloak，with a hood closelydrawn over his face；but her keen glance could distinguish the face under the hood.It wasstern，yet awakened confidence，and the eyes beamed with youthful radiance.“Down to my child，”she repeated；and tones of despair and entre aty sounded in thewords.“Darest thou to follow me？”asked the form. “I am Death.”She bowed her head in token of assent.then suddenly it appeared as if all the stars wereshining with the radiance of the full moon o n the many-colored flowers that decked the grave.The earth that cover ed it was drawn back like a floating drapery.She sunk down，and thespectre covered her with a black cloak；night closed around her，the night of death.She sankdeeper than the spade of the sexton c ould penetrate，till the churchyard became a roof aboveher.Then the cloak was removed，and she found herself in a large hall，of wi de-spreadingdimensions，in which there was a subdued light，like twi light，reigning，and in a momenther child appeared before her，smi ling，and more beautiful than ever；with a silent cry shepressed h im to her heart.A glorious strain of music sounded—now distant，n ow near.Neverhad she listened to such tones as these；they came f rom beyond a large dark curtain whichseparated the regions of death from the land of eternity.“My sweet，darling mother，”she heard the child say.It was the well-known，belovedvoice；and kiss followed kiss，in boundless del ight.Then the child pointed to the darkcurtain.“There is nothing so beautiful on earth as it is here.Mother，do you not see themall？Oh，it is happiness indeed.”But the mother saw nothing of what the child pointed out，only the dark curtain.Shelooked with earthly eyes，and could not see as t he child saw，—he whom God has called to bewith Himself.She could hear the soun ds of music，but she heard not the words，the Word inwhich she w as to trust.“I can fly now，mother，”said the child；“I can fly with other happy children into thepresence of the Almigh ty.I would fain fly away now；but if you weep for me as you ar eweeping now，you may never see me again.And yet I would go so gladly.May I not fly away？And you will come to me soon，will you not，dear mother？”“Oh，stay，stay！”implored the mother；“only one moment more；only once more，that I may look upon thee，and kiss thee，and press thee to my heart.”then she kissed and fondled her child.Suddenly her name was called from above；whatcould it mean？her name uttered in a plaintive v oice.“Hearest thou？”said the child. “It is my father who calls thee.”And in a few moments deepsighs were heard，as of children weeping. “They are my sisters，”said the child. “Mother，surely you have not forgotten them.”And then she remembered those she left behind，and a GREat terror came over her.Shelooked around her at the dark night.Dim forms fl itted by.She seemed to recognize some ofthem，as they floated through the regions of death towards the dark curtain，where theyvanishe d.Would her husband and her daughters flit past？No；their sighs and lamentationsstill sounded from above；and she had nearly forgot ten them，for the sake of him who wasdead.“Mother，now the bells of heaven are ringing，”said the child；“mother，the sun is goingto rise.”An overpowering light streamed in upon her，the child had vanished，and she was beingborne upwards.All around her became cold；she l ifted her head，and saw that she was lyingin the churchyard，on t he grave of her child.The Lord，in a dream，had been a guide t o herfeet and a light to her spirit.She bowed her knees，and pra yed for forgiveness.She hadwished to keep back a soul from its imm ortal flight；she had forgotten her duties towards theliving who wer e left her.And when she had offered this prayer，her heart felt lighter.The sunburst forth，over her head a little bird carolled h is song，and the church-bells sounded forthe early service.Everythin g around her seemed holy，and her heart was chastened.Sheacknowledg ed the goodness of God，she acknowledged the duties she had to per form，andeagerly she returned home.She bent over her husband，who still slept；her warm，devotedkiss awakened him，and words of he artfelt love fell from the lips of both.Now she was gentleand stro ng as a wife can be；and from her lips came the words of faith：“Whatever He doethis right and best.”then her husband asked，“From whence hast thou all at once derived such strength andcomforti ng faith？”And as she kissed him and her children，she said，“It came from God，through my childin the grave.”屋子里充满哀伤，心中充满哀伤，最幼小的孩子，一个四岁的男孩，这家人唯一的儿子，父母的欢乐和希望，死掉了。
THE SWINEHERD英文版安徒生童话选
安徒生童话 英文版
安徒生童话英文版1.打火匣/ The Tinder-Box2.小克劳斯与大克劳斯/ Great Claus and Little Claus 113. 豌豆上的公主/ The Princess on the Pea 234. 小意达的花儿/ Little Ida誷 Flowers 255. 拇指姑娘/ Thumbelina 346. 顽皮的孩子/ The Naughty Boy 467. 旅伴/ The Travelling Companion 498. 海的女儿/ The Little Sea Maid 699. 皇帝的新装/ The Emperor誷 New Clothes 9110. 幸运的套鞋/ The Goloshes of Fortune 9711. 雏菊/ The Daisy 12312. 坚定的锡兵/ The Hardy Tin Soldier 12813. 野天鹅/ The Wild Swans 13314. 天国花园/ The Garden of Paradise 14915. 飞箱/ The Flying Trunk 16316. 鹳鸟/ The Storks 17017. 铜猪/ The Metal Pig 17618. 永恒的友情/ The Bond of Friendship 18819. 荷马墓上的一朵玫瑰/A Rose From the Grave of Homer 19720. 梦神/ Ole Luk-Oie 19921. 玫瑰花精/ The Rose-Elf 21222. 猪倌/ The Swineherd 21823. 荞麦/ The Buckwheat 22424. 安琪儿/ The Angel 22725. 夜莺/ The Nightingale 23126. 恋人/ The Lovers 24227. 丑小鸭/ The Ugly Duckling 24528. 枞树/ The Fir Tree 25529. 白雪皇后/ The Snow Queen 26530. 接骨木树妈妈/ The Elder Tree Mother 29531. 织补针/ The Darning-Needle 30332. 钟声/ The Bell 30733. 祖母/ Grandmother 31334. 妖山/ The Elf-Hill 31635. 红鞋/ The Red Shoes 32336. 跳高者/ The Jumper 33037. 牧羊女和扫烟囱的人/ The Shepherdess andthe Chimney- Sweeper 33338. 丹麦人荷尔格/ Holger the Dane 33939. 卖火柴的小女孩/ The Little Match Girl 34440. 城堡上的一幅画/ A Picture From the Fortress Wall 34741. 瓦尔都窗前的一瞥/ By the Almshouse Window 34942. 老路灯/ The Old Street Lamp 35243. 邻居们/ The Neighbouring Families 359 44. 小杜克/ Little Tuk 369 45. 影子/ The Shadow 37446. 老房子/ The Old House 38747. 一滴水/ The Drop of Water 39548. 幸福的家庭/ The Happy Family 39849. 母亲的故事/ The Story of a Mother 40250. 衬衫领子/ The Shirt Collar 40851. 亚麻/ The Flax 41252. 凤凰/ The Phoenix Bird 41753. 一个故事/ A Story 41954. 一本不说话的书/ The Dumb Book 42455. 区别/ 襎here Is a Difference 42756. 老墓碑/ The Old Gravestone 431中篇57. 世上最美丽的一朵玫瑰花/ The Loveliest Rose in the World 43758. 一年的故事/ The Story of the Year 44059. 最后的一天/ On the Last Day 449。
安徒生童话故事第8篇：海的女儿TheLittleMermaid
安徒生童话故事第8篇：海的女儿TheLittleMermaid安徒生童话故事第8篇：海的女儿The Little Mermaid“我得去旅行一下!”他对她说过，“我得去看一位美丽的公主，这是我父母的命令，但是他们不能强迫我把她作为未婚妻带回家来!我不会爱她的。
你很像神庙里的那个美丽的姑娘，而她却不像。
如果我要选择新嫁娘的话，那未我就要先选你——我亲爱的、有一双能讲话的眼睛的哑巴孤女。
”于是他吻了她鲜红的嘴唇，摸抚着她的长头发、把他的头贴到她的心上，弄得她的这颗心又梦想起人间的幸福和一个不灭的灵魂来。
“你不害怕海吗，我的哑巴孤儿?”他问。
这时他们正站在那艘华丽的船上，它正向邻近的王国开去。
他和她谈论着风暴和平静的海，生活在海里的奇奇怪怪的鱼，和潜水夫在海底所能看到的东西。
对于这类的故事，她只是微微地一笑，因为关于海底的事儿她比谁都知道得清楚。
在月光照着的夜里，大家都睡了，只有掌舵人立在舵旁。
这时她就坐在船边上，凝望着下面清亮的海水，她似乎看到了她父亲的王宫。
她的老祖母头上戴着银子做的皇冠，正高高地站在王宫顶上;她透过激流朝这条船的龙骨了望。
不一会，他的姐姐们都浮到水面上来了，她们悲哀地望着她，苦痛地扭著她们白净的手。
她向她们招手，微笑，同时很想告诉她们，说她现在一切都很美好和幸福。
不过这时船上的一个侍者忽然向她这边走来。
她的姐姐们马上就沉到水里，侍者以为自己所看到的那些白色的东西，不过只是些海上的泡沫。
第二天早晨，船开进邻国壮丽皇城的港口。
所有教堂的钟都响起来了，号笛从许多高楼上吹来，兵士们拿着飘扬的旗子和明晃的刺刀在敬礼。
每天都有一个宴会。
舞会和晚会在轮流举行着，可是公主还没有出现。
人们说她在一个遥远的神庙里受教育，学习皇家的一切美德。
最后她终于到来了。
小人鱼迫切地想要看看她的美貌。
她不得不承认她的美了，她从来没有看见过比这更美的形体。
她的皮肤是那么细嫩，洁白;在她黑长的睫毛后面是一对微笑的、忠诚的、深蓝色的眼珠。
安徒生童话中英文对照简短
安徒生童话中英文对照简短安徒生童话是世界著名的童话作品，包含许多经典故事，给人们带来了无尽的喜悦和启示。
下面是一些安徒生童话的中英文对照内容，希望能够给你带来参考。
1.《小红帽》(Little Red Riding Hood)英文：Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red Riding Hood. One day, her mother asked her to take a basket of food to her sick grandmother. On the way to her grandmother's house, she met a cunning wolf who pretended to be her grandmother. The wolf ate Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother, but later they were saved by a woodcutter.中文：从前，有一个叫小红帽的小女孩。
有一天，她妈妈让她拿一篮子食物去看望生病的奶奶。
在去奶奶家的路上，她遇到了一只狡猾的狼，它假装是她的奶奶。
狼吃了小红帽和奶奶，但后来它们被一个好心的木匠救了出来。
2.《丑小鸭》(The Ugly Duckling)英文：In a nest, there were some eggs. One of them was different from the others and everyone called it the "ugly duckling". Theugly duckling was teased by others and felt lonely and sad. Later, it realized that it was actually a beautiful swan. From then on, it lived happily with the swans.中文：在一个鸟窝里，有一些鸟蛋。
崆峒区第一小学六年级英语安徒生童话系列八theBraveTinSoldier阅读素材
the Brave Tin Soldierby Hans Christian Andersen（1838）theRE were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers，who were all brothers，for they had been made outof the same old tin spoon. They shouldered armsand looked straight before them，and wore asplendid uniform，red and blue. The first thing inthe world t hey ever heard were the words，“Tinsoldiers！”uttered by a little boy，who clapped hishands with delight when the lid of the box，inwhich they lay，was taken of f. They were given him for a birthday present，and he stood atthe table to set them up. The soldiers were all exactly alike，except ing one，who had only oneleg；he had been left to the last，and then there was not enough of the melted tin to finishhim，so the y made him to stand firmly on one leg，and this caused him to be veryremarkable.the table on which the tin soldiers stood，was covered with other playthings，but themost attractive to the eye was a pretty little p aper castle. Through the small windows therooms could be seen. In fr ont of the castle a number of little trees surrounded a piece ofloo king-glass，which was intended to represent a transparent lake. Swans ，made of wax，swam on the lake，and were reflected in it. All this was very pre tty，but the prettiest of all wasa tiny little lady，who stood at the open door of the castle；she，also，was made of paper，and she wore a dress of clear muslin，with a narrow blue ribbon o ver her shoulders just like ascarf. In front of these was fixed a glittering tinsel rose，as large as her whole face. The littlelady was a dancer，and she stretched out both her arms，and raised oneof her legs so high，that the tin soldier could not see it at all，and he thought that she，like himself，had onlyone leg. “That is the wife for me，”he thought；“but she is too grand，and lives in a castle，while I have only a box to live in，five-and-twenty of us altogeth er，that is no place for her.Still I must try and make her acquai ntance.”Then he laid himself at full length on the tablebehind a snuff-box that stood upon it，so that he could peep at the little delicate lady，whocontinued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When evening came，the other tinsoldiers were all placedin the box，and the people of the house went to bed. Then theplay things began to have their own games together，to pay visits，to have sham fights，andto give balls. The tin soldiers rattled in the ir box；they wanted to get out and join theamusements，but they c ould not open the lid. The nut-crackers played at leap-frog，and th epencil jumped about the table. There was such a noise that the can ary woke up and began totalk，and in poetry too. Only the tin sol dier and the dancer remained in their places. She stoodon tiptoe，w ith her legs stretched out，as firmly as he did on his one leg. He never took hiseyes from her for even a moment. The clock struck twelve，and，with a bounce，up sprangthe lid of the snuff-box；but，instead of snuff，there jumped up a little black goblin；f or thesnuff-box was a toy puzzle.“Tin soldier，”said the goblin，“don't wish for what does not belong to you.”But the tin soldier pretended not to hear.“Very well；wait till to-morrow，then，”said the goblin. When the children came in the next morning，they placed the tin soldier in the window.Now，whether it was the goblin who did it，or the draught，is not known，but the windowflew open，and out fel l the tin soldier，heels over head，from the third story，into t hestreet beneath. It was a terrible fall；for he came head downward s，his helmet and hisbayonet stuck in between the flagstones，and his one leg up in the air. The servant maid andthe little boy went down stairs directly to look for him；but he was nowhere to be seen，although once they nearly trod upon him. If he had called out，“Here I am，”it would havebeen all right，but he was too proud to cry out for help while he wore a uniform.Presently it began to rain，and the drops fell faster and faster，till there was a heavyshower. When it was over，two boys happened to pass by，and one of them said，“Look，there is a tin soldier. He ought to have a boat to sail in.”So they made a boat out of a newspaper，and placed the tin soldie r in it，and sent himsailing down the gutter，while the two boys ran by the side of it，and clapped their hands.Good gracious，wh at large waves arose in that gutter！and how fast the stream rolle d on！for the rain had been very heavy. The paper boat rocked up and dow n，and turned itself roundsometimes so quickly that the tin soldier trembled；yet he remained firm；his countenancedid not change；he looked straight before him，and shouldered his musket. Suddenly the boat shot under a bridge which formed a part of a drain，and then it was as dark as the tinsoldier's box.“Where am I going now？”thought he. “This is the black goblin's fault，I am sure. Ah，well，if the little lady were only here with me in the boat，I should not care for any darkness.”Suddenly there appeared a GREat water-rat，who lived in the drain.“Have you a passport？”asked the rat，“give it to me at once.”But the tin soldierremained silent and h eld his musket tighter than ever. The boat sailed on and the rat f ollowedit. How he did gnash his teeth and cry out to the bits of wood and straw，“Stop him，stophim；he has not paid toll，and has not shown his pass.”But the stream rushed on strongerand stronger. The tin sold ier could already see daylight shining where the arch ended. Then he heard a roaring sound quite terrible enough to frighten the bravest man. At the end of thetunnel the drain fell into a large canal ove r a steep place，which made it as dangerous forhim as a waterfall would be to us. He was too close to it to stop，so the boat r ushed on，andthe poor tin soldier could only hold himself as stiffl y as possible，without moving an eyelid，toshow that he was not a fraid. The boat whirled round three or four times，and then filled withwater to the very edge；nothing could save it from sinking. H e now stood up to his neck inwater，while deeper and deeper sank the boat，and the paper became soft and loose with thewet，till a t last the water closed over the soldier's head. He thought of the elegant little dancerwhom he should never see again，and the words of the song sounded in his ears—“Farewell，warrior！ever brave，Drifting onward to thy grave.”then the paper boat fell to pieces，and the soldier sank into the water and immediatelyafterwards was swallowed up by a GREat fish. O h how dark it was inside the fish！ A great dealdarker than in thetunnel，and narrower too，but the tin soldier continued firm，an d lay atfull length shouldering his musket. The fish swam to and fr o，making the most wonderfulmovements，but at last he became quite still. After a while， a FLASH of lightning seemed topass through him，and then the daylight approached，and a voice cried out，“I declare hereis the tin soldier.”The fish had been caught，tak en to the market and sold to the cook，whotook him into the kitch en and cut him open with a large knife. She picked up the soldier andheld him by the waist between her finger and thumb，and carrie d him into the room. Theywere all anxious to see this wonderful sol dier who had travelled about inside a fish；but he wasnot at all proud. They placed him on the table，and—how many curious things d o happen inthe world！—there he was in the very same room from the window of which he had fallen，there werethe same children，the same playthings，stand ing on the table，and the pretty castle withthe elegant little danc er at the door；she still balanced herself on one leg，and held up theother，so she was as firm as himself. It touched the tin so ldier so much to see her that healmost wept tin tears，but he kep t them back. He only looked at her and they both remainedsilent. Pr esently one of the little boys took up the tin soldier，and threw him into the stove. Hehad no reason for doing so，therefore it m ust have been the fault of the black goblin who livedin the snuff-b ox. The flames lighted up the tin soldier，as he stood，the heat was veryterrible，but whether it proceeded from the real fire or from the fire of love he could not tell.then he could see that the bright colors were faded from his unifor m，but whether theyhad been washed off during his journey or fromthe effects of his sorrow，no one could say.He looked at the littl e lady，and she looked at him. He felt himself melting away，but he stillremained firm with his gun on his shoulder. Suddenly the d oor of the room flew open and thedraught of air caught up the litt le dancer，she fluttered like a sylph right into the stove by thes ide of the tin soldier，and was instantly in flames and was gone. The tin soldier melted downinto a lump，and the next morning，wh en the maid servant took the ashes out of thestove，she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the little dancer not hingremained but the tinsel rose，which was burnt black as a cinder.Unit 1 Listening and SpeakingWord box1. classmate n. 同班同学Are Alice and Kitty classmates?爱丽丝和凯蒂是同班同学吗？My cousin and I are classmates.我的堂妹和我是同班同学。
小学英语英语故事(童话故事)TheChildintheGrave墓里的孩子
The Child in the Grave 墓里的孩子There was sorrow in the house; there was sorrow in every heart, for the youngest child, a four-year-old boy, the joy and future hope of his parents, was dead. They had two older daughters, the eldest of whom was to be confirmed that year; sweet, good girls, they both were; but the child one has lost is always the most precious, and this was not only the youngest but the only son. It was indeed a heavy affliction. The sisters grieved as the young grieve, awed by the sorrow of their parents; the father's head bowed in grief; but most of all the mother suffered.Night and day she had cared for the sick child, nursed it, carried it with her, guarded it constantly until it was a part of herself. She could not conceive that he was dead, that he should be laid in a coffin and rest in a dark grave. God would never take her child from her, she thought; when it happened, however, and was a certainty, she cried aloud in her agony, "God had known nothing of this! He has heartless servants here upon earth; they do as they like and pay no heed to the prayers of a mother!"In her grief she turned from God, and then came dark thoughts, thoughts of death, everlasting death- that human beings became earth in the earth and that all was over. Her words were bitter, for her heart was black with despair. There were hours when she could not even find solace of tears; she had no thought for her young daughters; she never looked up at her husband when his tears fell on her hot forehead; her thoughts were all with her dead child; her mind could recall only cherished memories of him-his winning ways, his innocent, childish prattle.The day of the funeral came. For several nights she had not closed her eyes; but early in the morning of this day, overcome at last by weariness, she fell asleep. And during her sleep the coffin was carried into a distant room and there the lid was nailed down, so that she would not hear the sound of the hammering.When she awoke she demanded to see her child, but her husband replied through his tears, "We have closed the coffin; it had to be done.""When God deals cruelly with me," she cried, "why should people treat me better!" And then she was overcome with bitter tears.The coffin was carried to the grave; the inconsolable mother sat with her young daughters, but she looked at them without seeing them, for her thoughts had nothing more to do with her home. She resigned herself to sorrow, and it tossed her to and fro as the sea tosses the rudderless ship. Thus passed the day of the funeral, and several days followed, all dark with the same heavy monotony of sorrow. Her family watched her with moist eyes and sorrowful glances; she did not heed their words of comfort. What comfort could they offer when they themselves were grieving?It seemed to her as though she would never sleep again, yet sleep could be her best friend; it could strengthen her body and bring rest to her embittered soul. They persuaded her to lie down, and she would lie in her bed as quietly as though she were actually sleeping.One night her husband listened to her steady breathing and really thought that at last she had found repose. With folded hands he thanked God, and soon fell into asound, deep sleep. So he was not aware that his wife rose, dressed herself, and went quietly out of the house, to seek the spot where her thoughts were night and day, the grave that hid her child. She walked through the garden and into the field beyond, where a footpath led to the churchyard. Nobody saw her, and she saw no one.It was a beautiful, starry night in early September; the air was mild. She entered the churchyard, and when she reached the little grave it was like one huge bouquet of fragrant flowers. She sat there and bowed her head over the grave, as if she could see through the thick covering of earth the dear child whose smile she so well remembered, that adoring look in the sweet eyes as she bent over his sickbed and lifted the tiny hand he had no strength to raise. And as then she sat beside his bed, now she sat beside his grave, but here her tears flowed freely and fell upon the grave."You wish to go down to your child!" said a voice close to her, a voice so clear, so profound, it resounded in her heart. She looked up, and there standing beside her was a figure shrouded in a heavy black mourning cloak. Over the head spread a hood, yet she could see the face beneath it, and that stern face inspired trust; those grave eyes sparkled with the light of youth."Down to my child!" she repeated in a sad, pleading tone, like a despairing prayer. "Do you dare to follow me?" asked the figure. "I am Death!"And she bowed her head in silent assent. Suddenly each of the millions of stars above shone with the brightness of the full moon; she beheld the richly colored splendor of the flowers on the grave, while the earth covering it yielded gently and softly like a waving cloth. She sank, and the black mantle of Death was spread over her, and all was darkness; she sank deeper than the spade of the gravedigger can reach, until the churchyard lay like a roof above her head.The black folds of the mantle fell aside, and she was standing in a mighty hall that was as friendly as it was big; there was a twilight all around. Before her appeared her child, and in the same moment she held him close to her heart. He smiled at her and looked more beautiful than ever before; she uttered a cry, which, however, was inaudible, for just then the hall was filled with music, now swelling high and triumphant, now dying away into tones faint but clear. Such blessed sounds had never before reached her ears; they seemed to come from beyond the heavy black curtain that divided the hall from the great land of eternity."My sweet mother! My own mother!" she heard her child say. It was the familiar, beloved voice; and kiss followed kiss in boundless happiness. Then the child pointed to the black curtain. "Look, Mother! There is nothing as beautiful as this on earth! Do you see, Mother? Do you see them all? This is happiness!"But the mother could see nothing where the child pointed, nothing but the blackness of night; she gazed with earthly eyes and could not see as could the child whom God had called to Himself. So it was with the music; she could hear the sounds, the tones, but not the words, the words in which she was to believe."I can fly now, Mother!" said the child. "Fly, with all the other happy children, straight into God's paradise! Oh, I love that, but when you cry as you are cryingnow it calls me back, and I can no longer fly, and I want so much to. Will you not let me? You will join me here in only a little time, dearest Mother!""Oh, stay, stay!" she begged. "Only for a moment longer! Let me look at you once more, kiss you again, hold you fast in my arms!"And she kissed him, holding him tightly. Suddenly she heard her name called from far overhead, called in a sad, imploring tone! What could it mean?"Don't you hear?" said the child. "It is Father calling you!"And a few seconds later she heard deep sighs, which sounded as if they came from weeping children. "They are my sisters!" said the child. "Oh, Mother, surely you have not forgotten them!"And now she remembered the beloved ones she had left in her home, and a great fear swept over her. She looked around her and saw the different forms that were continually gliding past, to disappear behind the black curtain. She imagined she recognized some of them; could her husband or her little girls be among them? No, their cries, their sighs, had come from far above her; she had nearly forgotten them for the dead."Mother," said the child, "the bells of paradise are ringing! The sun is rising!" Then an overpowering light streamed out on her-and the child was gone, and she herself was carried upward. Then all was cold around her, and when she lifted her head she found herself lying on her child's grave in the churchyard. But in her dream the Lord had become a rest for her foot, a light for her understanding. She sank to her knees and prayed, "O my Lord forgive me that I wished to keep an immortal spirit from its flight into eternity and could forget my duties toward the living ones you have given me here!"And with that prayer it seemed as if her heart at last found relief.The sun came out, a little bird sang above her, and the church bells began to ring for the morning service. Light was all about her; light was once more in her heart; she felt the goodness of God and remembered her duties as, longing, she hurried to her home. There she bent over her husband, and her warm, tender kiss awakened him, and they could speak together of their loss. Now she was strong and calm, as a wife should be, and from he lips came words of trust and confidence. "God's will is always best.""Where did you so suddenly gain this strength," her husband asked her, "this comfort?"Then she kissed him and kissed her daughters. "It came to me from God, by the grave of my child!"。
安徒生童话《墓中的孩子》原文欣赏
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文档下载后可定制修改，请根据实际需要进行调整和使用，谢谢!并且，本店铺为大家提供各种类型的经典范文，如诗歌散文、原文赏析、读书笔记、经典名著、古典文学、网络文学、经典语录、童话故事、心得体会、其他范文等等，想了解不同范文格式和写法，敬请关注!Download tips: This document is carefully compiled by this editor.I hope that after you download it, it can help you solve practical problems. The document can be customized and modified after downloading, please adjust and use it according to actual needs, thank you!In addition, this shop provides you with various types of classic sample essays, such as poetry and prose, original text appreciation, reading notes, classic works, classical literature, online literature, classic quotations, fairy tales, experience, other sample essays, etc. if you want to know the difference Please pay attention to the format and writing of the sample essay!安徒生童话《墓中的孩子》原文欣赏【导语】：《墓中的孩子》是安徒生创作的一篇童话故事，关于《墓中的孩子》的主要内容是什么呢？来阅读一下《墓中的孩子》原文吧。
船营区一小六年级英语安徒生童话系列八TheBuckwheat阅读素材
the Buckwheatby Hans Christian Andersen（1842）VERY often，after a violent thunder-storm，afield of buckwheat appea rs blackened and singed，as if a flame of fire had passed over it. the countrypeople say th at this appearance is caused bylightning；but I will tell you what the sparrowsays，and the sparrow heard it from an old willow-tree which GREw near a field of buckwheat，and isthere still. It is a large venerable tree，though alittle crippled by age. The trunk ha s been split，and out of the crevice grass and bramblesgrow. The t ree bends for-ward slightly，and the branches hang quite down to th e groundjust like green hair. Corn grows in the surrounding fields，not only rye and barley，but oats，—pretty oats that，when ripe，look like a number of little golden canary-birds sitting on abough. The corn has a smiling look and th e heaviest and richest ears bend their heads low as ifin pious humi lity. Once there was also a field of buckwheat，and this field was exactlyopposite to old willow-tree. The buckwheat did not bend like the other grain，but erected itshead proudly and stiffly on the s tem. “I am as valuable as any other corn，”said he，“and Iam much handsomer；my flowers are as beautiful as the bloom of the apple blossom，and itis a pleasure to look at us. Do you know of anything prettier than we are，you old willow-tree？”And the willow-tree nodded his head，as if he would say，“Indeed I do.”But the buckwheat spread itself out with pride，and said，“Stupid tree；he is so old thatgrass grows out of his body.”there arose a very terrible storm. All the field-flowers folded their leaves together，orbowed their little heads，while the storm passe d over them，but the buckwheat stood erect inits pride. “Bend your head as we do，”said the flowers.“I have no occasion to do so，”replied the buckwheat.“Bend your head as we do，”cried the ears of corn；“the angel of the storm is coming；his wings spread from the sky above to the earth beneath. He will strike you down before youcan cry for mercy.”“But I will not bend my head，”said the buckwheat.“Close your flowers and bend your leaves，”said the old willow-tree. “Do not look at thelightning when the cloud bursts；even men canno t do that. In a FLASH of lightning heavenopens，and we can look i n；but the sight will strike even human beings blind. What thenmust happen to us，who only grow out of the earth，and are so infer ior to them，if weventure to do so？”“Inferior，indeed！”said the buckwheat. “Now I intend to have a peep into heaven.”Proudly and boldly he l ooked up，while the lightning FLASHed across the sky as if the who leworld were in flames.When the dreadful storm had passed，the flowers and the corn raised their droopingheads in the pure still air，refreshed by the rain，but the buckwheat lay like a weed in thefield，burnt to blackness by the lightning. The branches of the old willow-tree rustled in t hewind，and large water-drops fell from his GREen leaves as if the old willow were weeping. Thenthe sparrows asked why he was weeping，when all around him seemed so cheerful. “See，”they said，“how the sun shines，and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do yo u not smell thesweet perfume from flower and bush？Wherefore do you weep，old willow-tree？”Then thewillow told them of the haughty pride of the buckwheat，and of the punishment whichfollowed in conse quence.This is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when I begge d them to relate sometale to me.Unit 2 Last WeekendPart B Let’s Learn 评课稿这堂课的思路非常清晰，教师的基本功扎实，课前准备得也相当充分，教师的语音清晰、语调得当，在语感上非常好；另外教师的表情亲切，教态良好，有亲和力。
安徒生童话故事第98篇：墓里的孩子TheChildintheGrave
安徒生童话故事第：墓里的孩子The Child in the Grave安徒生童话故事第98篇：墓里的孩子The Child in the Grave引导语：《墓里的孩子》是著名作家安徒生童话选其中之一作品，下面就是小编整理的中英文版本的，与大家分享学习。
屋子里充满了悲哀，每一颗心都充满了悲哀。
一个四岁的孩子死去了。
他是他爸爸妈妈唯一的儿子，是他们的欢乐和未来的希望。
他的爸爸妈妈还有两个较大的女儿，最大的那一个这一年就要受坚信礼了。
她们都是可爱的好孩子，但是死去的孩子总是最心疼的孩子，何况他还是一个顶小的独生儿子呢?这真是一场大灾难。
两个姐姐幼小的心灵已经悲哀到了极点;父亲的悲痛更使她们感到特别难过。
父亲的腰已经弯了，妈妈也被这种空前的悲哀压倒了。
她曾经日日夜夜忙着看护这个生病的孩子，照料他，抱着他，搂着他，觉得他已经成了她身体的一部分。
她简直不能想象他已经死了，快要躺进棺材，被埋葬到坟墓里去。
她认为上帝不可能把这个孩子从她的手中抢走。
但事情居然发生了，而且成了千真万确的事实，所以她在剧烈的痛苦中说：“上帝不知道这件事!他的那些在世上的仆人，有的真是没有一点良心;这些人随便处理事情，简直不听母亲们的祷告。
”她在痛苦中舍弃了上帝。
她的心中涌现了阴暗的思想——她想到了死，永恒的死。
她觉得人不过是尘土中的尘土，她这一生是完了。
这种思想使她觉得自己无所依靠;她陷入失望的无底深渊中去了。
当她苦痛到了极点的时候，连哭都哭不出来。
她没有想到她还有年幼的女儿。
她丈夫的眼泪滴到她的额上，但是她没有看他。
她一直在想那个死去了的孩子。
她的整个生命和存在都沉浸在回忆中：回忆她的孩子，回忆他所讲过的每一句天真幼稚的话。
入葬的那一天终于到来了。
在这以前她有许多夜晚没有睡过觉;但是天明的时候，她疲倦到了极点，所以就迷迷糊糊地睡去了。
棺材就在这时候被抬到一间僻静的房子里。
棺材盖就是在那儿钉上的，为的是怕她听见锤子的声音。
她一醒，就立刻爬起来，要去看孩子。
安徒生童话英文版
安徒生童话英文版安徒生童话英文版《安徒生童话》共由163篇故事组成，其中的《小人鱼》、《丑小鸭》、《卖火柴的'小女孩》、《拇指姑娘》都是我们爱看的童话。
安徒生童话英文版篇一THE ELFIN HILLA FEW large lizards were running nimbly about in the clefts of an old tree. They could understand one another very well, for they spoke the lizard language. "What a buzzing and a rumbling there is in the elfin hill," said one of the lizards."I have not been able to close my eyes for two nights on account of the noise; I might just as well have had the toothache, for that always keeps me awake.""There is something going on within there," said the other lizard; "they propped up the top of the hill with four red posts, till cock-crowthis morning, so that it is thoroughly aired, and the elfin girls have learnt new dances; there is something.""I spoke about it to an earth-worm of my acquaintance," said a third lizard; "the earth-worm had just come from the elfin hill, where he has been groping about in the earth day and night. He has heard a great deal; although he cannot see, poor miserable creature, yet he understands very well how to wriggle and lurk about. They expect friends in the elfin hill, grand company, too; but who they are the earth-worm would not say, or, perhaps, he really did not know. All the will-o'-the-wisps are ordered to be there to hold a torch dance, as it is called. The silver and gold which is plentiful in the hill will be polished and placed out in the moonlight.""Who can the strangers be?" asked the lizards; "what can thematter be? Hark, what a buzzing and humming there is!"Just at this moment the elfin hill opened, and an old elfin maiden, hollow behind, came tripping out; she was the old elf king's housekeeper, and a distant relative of the family; therefore she wore an amber heart on the middle of her forehead. Her feet moved very fast, "trip, trip;" good gracious, how she could trip right down to the sea to the night-raven."You are invited to the elf hill for this evening," said she; "but will you do me a great favor and undertake the invitations? you oughtto do something, for you have no housekeeping to attend to as I have. We are going to have some very grand people, conjurors, who have always something to say; and therefore the old elf king wishes to make a great display.""Who is to be invited?" asked the raven."All the world may come to the great ball, even human beings, if they can only talk in their sleep, or do something after our fashion. But for the feast the company must be carefully selected; we can only admit persons of high rank; I have had a dispute myself with the elf king, as he thought we could not admit ghosts. The merman and his daughter must be invited first, although it may not be agreeable to them to remain so long on dry land, but they shall have a wet stone to sit on, or perhaps something better; so I think they will not refuse this time. We must have all the old demons of the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us very frequently.""Croak," said the night-raven as he flew away with theinvitations.The elfin maidens we're already dancing on the elf hill, and they danced in shawls woven from moonshine and mist, which look very pretty to those who like such things. The large hall within the elf hill was splendidly decorated; the floor had been washed with moonshine, and the walls had been rubbed with magic ointment, so that they glowed like tulip-leaves in the light. In the kitchen were frogs roasting on the spit, and dishes preparing of snail skins, with children's fingers in them, salad of mushroom seed, hemlock, noses and marrow of mice, beer from the marsh woman's brewery, and sparkling salt-petre wine from the grave cellars. These were all substantial food. Rusty nails and church-window glass formed the dessert. The old elf king had his gold crown polished up with powdered slate-pencil; it was like that used by the first form, and very difficult for an elf king to obtain. In the bedrooms, curtains were hung up and fastened with the slime of snails; there was, indeed, a buzzing and humming everywhere."Now we must fumigate the place with burnt horse-hair and pig's bristles, and then I think I shall have done my part," said the elf man-servant."Father, dear," said the youngest daughter, "may I now hear who our high-born visitors are?""Well, I suppose I must tell you now," he replied; "two of my daughters must prepare themselves to be married, for the marriages certainly will take place. The old goblin from Norway, who lives in the ancient Dovre mountains, and who possesses many castles built of rock and freestone, besides a gold mine, which is better than all, so it is thought, is coming with his two sons, who are both seeking a wife. The old goblin is a true-hearted, honest, old Norwegian graybeard; cheerful and straightforward. I knew him formerly, when we used to drink together to our good fellowship: he came here once to fetch his wife, she is dead now. She was the daughter of the king of the chalk-hills at Moen. They say he took his wife from chalk; I shall be delighted to see him again. It is said that the boys are ill-bred, forward lads, but perhaps that is not quite correct, and they will become better as they grow older. Let me see that you know how to teach them good manners.""And when are they coming?" asked the daughter."That depends upon wind and weather," said the elf king; "they travel economically. They will come when there is the chance of a ship. I wanted them to come over to Sweden, but the old man was not inclined to take my advice. He does not go forward with the times, and that I do not like."Two will-o'-the-wisps came jumping in, one quicker than the other, so of course, one arrived first. "They are coming! they are coming!" he cried."Give me my crown," said the elf king, "and let me stand in the moonshine."The daughters drew on their shawls and bowed down to the ground. There stood the old goblin from the Dovre mountains, with his crown of hardened ice and polished fir-cones. Besides this, he wore a bear-skin, and great, warm boots, while his sons went with their throats bare and wore no braces, for they were strong men."Is that a hill?" said the youngest of the boys, pointing to the elf hill, "we should call it a hole in Norway.""Boys," said the old man, "a hole goes in, and a hill stands out; have you no eyes in your heads?"Another thing they wondered at was, that they were able without trouble to understand the language."Take care," said the old man, "or people will think you have not been well brought up."Then they entered the elfin hill, where the select and grand company were assembled, and so quickly had they appeared that they seemed to have been blown together. But for each guest the neatest and pleasantest arrangement had been made. The sea folks sat at table in great water-tubs, and they said it was just like being at home. All behaved themselves properly excepting the two young northern goblins; they put their legs on the table and thought they were all right."Feet off the table-cloth!" said the old goblin. They obeyed, but not immediately. Then they tickled the ladies who waited at table, with the fir-cones, which they carried in their pockets. They took off their boots, that they might be more at ease, and gave them to the ladies to hold. But their father, the old goblin, was very different; he talked pleasantly about the stately Norwegian rocks, and told fine tales of the waterfalls which dashed over them with a clattering noise like thunder or the sound of an organ, spreading their white foam on every side. He told of the salmon that leaps in the rushing waters, while the water-god plays on his golden harp. He spoke of the bright winter nights, when the sledge bells are ringing, and the boys run with burning torches across the smooth ice, which is so transparent that they can see the fishes dart forward beneath their feet. He described everything so clearly, that those who listened could see it all; they could see the saw-mills going, the men-servants and the maidens singing songs, and dancing a rattling dance,- when all at once the old goblin gave the old elfin maiden a kiss, such atremendous kiss, and yet they were almost strangers to each other.Then the elfin girls had to dance, first in the usual way, and then with stamping feet, which they performed very well; then followed the artistic and solo dance. Dear me, how they did throw their legs about! No one could tell where the dance begun, or where it ended, nor indeed which were legs and which were arms, for they were all flying about together, like the shavings in a saw-pit! And then they spun round so quickly that the death-horse and the grave-pig became sick and giddy, and were obliged to leave the table."Stop!" cried the old goblin," is that the only house-keeping they can perform? Can they do anything more than dance and throw about their legs, and make a whirlwind?""You shall soon see what they can do," said the elf king. And then he called his youngest daughter to him. She was slender and fair as moonlight, and the most graceful of all the sisters. She took a white chip in her mouth, and vanished instantly; this was her accomplishment. But the old goblin said he should not like his wife to have such an accomplishment, and thought his boys would have the same objection. Another daughter could make a figure like herself follow her, as if she had a shadow, which none of the goblin folk ever had. The third was of quite a different sort; she had learnt in the brew-house of the moor witch how to lard elfin puddings with glow-worms."She will make a good housewife," said the old goblin, and then saluted her with his eyes instead of drinking her health; for he did not drink much.Now came the fourth daughter, with a large harp to play upon; and when she struck the first chord, every one lifted up theleft leg (for the goblins are left-legged), and at the second chord they found they must all do just what she wanted."That is a dangerous woman," said the old goblin; and the two sons walked out of the hill; they had had enough of it. "And what can the next daughter do?" asked the old goblin."I have learnt everything that is Norwegian," said she; "and I will never marry, unless I can go to Norway."Then her youngest sister whispered to the old goblin, "That is only because she has heard, in a Norwegian song, that when the world shall decay, the cliffs of Norway will remain standing like monuments; and she wants to get there, that she may be safe; for she is so afraid of sinking.""Ho! ho!" said the old goblin, "is that what she means? Well, what can the seventh and last do?""The sixth comes before the seventh," said the elf king, for he could reckon; but the sixth would not come forward."I can only tell people the truth," said she. "No one cares for me, nor troubles himself about me; and I have enough to do to sew my grave clothes."So the seventh and last came; and what could she do? Why, she could tell stories, as many as you liked, on any subject.。
小学英语安徒生童话系列(八)theBell_Deep钟渊阅读素材
the Bell-Deepby Hans Christian Andersen（1857）ING-DONG！ding-dong！“It sounds up from the”bell-deep“in the Odense-Au.Every childin the oldtown of Odense，on the island of Funen，knowsthe Au，w hich washes the gardens round about thetown，and flows on under the wooden bridges fromthe dam to the water-mill.In the Au grow the yellowwater-lilies and brown feathery reeds；the darkvelvety flag grow s there，high and thick；old anddecayed willows，slanting and tott ering，hang far out over the stream beside the monk'smeadow and by the bleaching ground；but opposite there are gardens upon gardens，eachdifferent from the rest，some with pretty flowers and bowers l ike little dolls'pleasuregrounds，often displaying cabbage and other kitchen plants；and here and there the gardenscannot be seen at a ll，for the GREat elder trees that spread themselves out by the ba nk，andhang far out over the streaming waters，which are deeper he re and there than an oar canfathom.Opposite the old nunnery is the deepest place，which is called the”bell-deep，“andthere dwells the old water spirit，the”Au-mann.“This spiri t sleeps through the day while thesun shines down upon the water；but in starry and moonlit nights he shows himself.He is veryold.G randmother says that she has heard her own grandmother tell of him；he is said to leada solitary life，and to have nobody with whom he can converse save the great old church Bell.Once the Bell hung in the church tower；but now there is no trace left of the towe r or of thechurch，which was called St.Alban's.“Ding-dong！ding-dong！”sounded the Bell，when the tower still st ood there；and oneevening，while the sun was setting，and the Bell was swinging away bravely，it broke looseand came flying down thr ough the air，the brilliant metal shining in the ruddy beam.“Ding-dong！ding-dong！Now I'll retire to rest！”sang the Bell，and flew down into theOdense-Au，where it is deepest；and that i s why the place is called the“bell-deep.”But the Bell got neither rest nor sleep.Down in the Au-mann's haun t it sounds and rings，so that the tones sometimes pierce upward through the waters；and m any people maintainthat its strains forebode the death of some one；but that is not true，for the Bell is onlytalking with the Au-ma nn，who is now no longer alone.And what is the Bell telling？It is old，very old，as we have already observed；it wasthere long before grandmother's grandmother wa s born；and yet it is but a child incomparison with the Au-mann，who is quite an old quiet personage，an oddity，with hishose of eel-skin，and his scaly Jacket with the yellow lilies for buttons ，and a wreath of reedin his hair and seaweed in his beard；but he looks very pretty for all that.What the Bell tells？To repeat it all would require years and days ；for year by year it istelling the old stories，sometimes short ones，sometimes long ones，according to itswhim；it tells of old times，of the dark hard times，thus：“In the church of St.Alban，the monk had mounted up into the to wer.He was young andhandsome，but thoughtful exceedingly.He looked through the loophole out upon theOdense-Au，when the bed of the water was yet broad，and the monks'meadow was still alake.He look ed out over it，and over the rampart，and over the nuns'hill op posite，wherethe convent lay，and the light gleamed forth from the nun's cell.He had known the nun rightwell，and he thought of he r，and his heart beat quicker as he thought.Ding-dong！ding-dong！”Yes，this was the story the Bell told.“Into the tower came also the dapper man-servant of the bishop；an d when I，the Bell，who am made of metal，rang hard and loud，and swung to and fro，I might have beaten outhis brains.He sat down close under me，a nd played with two little sticks as if they had been astringed inst rument；and he sang to it.'Now I may sing it out aloud，though at other times Imay not whisper it.I may sing of everything that is kept concealed behind lock and bars.Yonder it is cold and wet. The rats are eating her up alive！Nobody knows of it！Nobody he arsof it！Not even now，for the bell is ringing and singing its loud Ding-dong，ding-dong！'“there was a King in those days.They called him Canute.He bowed himself before bishopand monk；but when he offended the free peasa nts with heavy taxes and hard words，theyseized their weapons and p ut him to flight like a wild beast.He sought shelter in the churc h，and shut gate and door behind him.The violent band surrounded the church；I heard tell ofit.The crows，ravens and magpies started u p in terror at the yelling and shouting thatsounded around.They fle w into the tower and out again，they looked down upon the throngbe low，and they also looked into the windows of the church，and scr eamed out aloud whatthey saw there.King Canute knelt before the altar in prayer；his brothers Eric and Benedictstood by him as a guar d with drawn swords；but the King's servant，the treacherousBlake，betrayed his master.The throng in front of the church knew where they could hit theKing，and one of them flung a stone through a pane of glass，and the King lay there dead！The cries and screams of the savage horde and of the birds sounded through the air，and Ijoined in it also；for I sang'Ding-dong！ding-dong！'“the church bell hangs high，and looks far around，and sees the birds around it，andunderstands their language.The wind roars in up on it through windows and loopholes；andthe wind knows everything，for he gets it from the air，which encircles all things，and thec hurch bell understands his tongue，and rings it out into the world ，'Ding-dong！ding-dong！'“But it was too much for me to hear and to know；I was not abl e any longer to ring it out.I became so tired，so heavy，that th e beam broke，and I flew out into the gleaming Au，where the water is deepest，and where the Au-mann lives，solitary and alone；and year byyear I tell him what I have heard and what I know.Ding-dong！ding-dong”Thus it sounds complainingly out of the bell-deep in the Odense-Au. That is whatgrandmother told us.But the schoolmaster says that there was not any bell that rung dow n there，for that itcould not do so；and that no Au-mann dwelt y onder，for there was no Au-mann at all！Andwhen all the other chu rch bells are sounding sweetly，he says that it is not really thebells thatare sounding，but that it is the air itself which sends forth the notes；and grandmother saidto us that the Bell itself s aid it was the air who told it to him，consequently they are aGRE edon that point，and this much is sure.“Be cautious，cautious，and take good heed to thyself，”they bot h say.the air knows everything.It is around us，it is in us，it talks of our thoughts and of ourdeeds，and it speaks longer of them th an does the Bell down in the depths of the Odense-Auwhere the Au-ma nn dwells.It rings it out in the vault of heaven，far，far out ，forever andever，till the heaven bells sound“Ding-dong！ding-do ng！”“叮噹！叮噹！”奥登斯钟渊那边传来了清脆的声音——是一条甚么样的河？——奥登斯城的孩子们个个都知道，它绕着花园流过，从木桥下边，经过水闸流到水磨。
格林童话故事第179篇：坟中的穷少年Thepoorboyinthegrave
格林童话故事第：坟中的穷少年The poor boy in the gr格林童话故事第179篇：坟中的穷少年The poor boy in the grave童话故事伴随着每个人的成长，我们都曾被五彩缤纷、神奇变幻的童话世界所吸引，难以忘记童话给我们的童年带来许多温馨记忆。
我们一起阅读与学习下面的一篇《坟中的穷少年》的格林童话故事吧。
从前有个穷放羊娃失去了父母，官府把他安置在一个富人家中，由这富人供他吃饭并抚养成人。
但这富人和他女人的心肠都很坏，又贪婪，总是牢牢守住自己的财富，任何人吃了他们一小块面包，他们都会大发雷霆。
这个可怜的穷小伙子无论怎么做，得到的食物总是很少，相反挨的打却很多。
一天，他被派去看护一只母鸡和一群小崽。
但母鸡却带着小鸡从树篱里逃了出去，这时一只老鹰突然俯冲而下，把母鸡叼上了空中。
这男孩竭尽全力大喊："小偷!小偷!流氓!"但这有什么用呢? 老鹰可不会把到嘴的东西吐出来的。
富人闻声赶来，发现母鸡不见了，他非常生气，恶狠狠地打了那男孩，以致男孩两天都不能动弹。
接下来这男孩就得照管好这些没有妈妈的小鸡了，这当然要更困难些。
因为小鸡总是东跑一只，西跑一只。
结果他就自做聪明，把所有的小鸡用一根绳子拴在一块，这样老鹰就叼不走任何一只了。
但他这样做实在是大错特错了。
那两天中，他东奔西跑，又累又饿，所以很快就睡着了。
老鹰又来了，把一群小鸡全叼走了，然后停在树上，吞吃着小鸡。
那个富人正好赶回家来，当明白了所发生的灾难时，一下子怒火中烧，毫不留情地又打了那男孩一顿，以致男孩好几天不得不躺在床上，不能动弹。
当他又能走路后，富人对他说："你这没用的东西，我没法让你成为一个牧人，你去替我跑跑腿吧。
"于是他就让男孩去给法官送一篮葡萄另带一封信。
一路上男孩又饥又渴，非常难受，便私自偷吃了两串葡萄。
他把篮子带到了法官那儿，法官看信后数了数葡萄，说："少了两串。
安徒生童话英语故事
安徒生童话英语故事安徒生童话对中国现代儿童文学有深远的影响,中国儿童文学的许多特质,都与安徒生的童话有着隐形的关系。
下面是小编搜集的安徒生童话英语故事供大家阅读。
The Darning-Needle 织补针Once upon a time there was a darning needle who imagined she was so fine that she really was a sewing needle."Be careful and hold me tightly!" she warned the fingers that picked her up. "Don't drop me! If I fall on the floor you may never find me again; that's how fine I am!""That's what you think!" replied the fingers, and squeezed her around the waist."Look, here I come with my train!" said the darning needle, and she drew a long thread behind her, but there was no knot in the thread.The fingers aimed the needle straight at the cook's slipper, where the upper leather had burst and had to be sewed together."My! What vulgar work!" sniffed the darning needle. "I'll never get through! Look out! I'm breaking! I'm breaking in two." And just then she did break. "I told you so," she said. "I'm much too delicate!""Well, she's no good now," thought the fingers, but they had to hold on to her all the same. For the cook dropped a little sealing wax on the end of the needle to make a head, and then she pinned her kerchief together with it in front."Look! Now I'm a breastpin," said the needle. "I knew perfectly well I'd be honored. If you are something you always amount to something."Then she laughed, but it was inwardly, because no one canever really see a darning needle laugh. There she sat on the cook's bosom, proud as if she were in a state coach, and looked all around her."May I be permitted to inquire if you're made of gold?" she very politely asked a little pin near her. "You look pretty, and you have a head of your own, but it's rather small. You must be careful to grow bigger. Not everyone can have sealing wax on one end like me!"Then the darning needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell right out of the kerchief into the sink, at the very moment the cook was rinsing it out."Looks now as if we are off on a journey," she said to herself. "Let's hope I don't get lost." But she really was lost down the drain."I'm too fine for this world," she observed calmly as she lay in the gutter outside. "But I know who I am, and that's always a satisfaction." So the darning needle was still proud, and she never lost her good humor. She watched the many strange things floating above her-chips and straws and pieces of old newspapers."Look at them sail!" she said to herself. "They don't know what's down below them! Here I sit! I can sting! Look at that stick go, thinking of nothing in the world but himself-a stick! And that's exactly what he is! And there's a straw floating by; look at him twist and look how he turns! You'd better not think so much about yourself up there! You'll run into the curb! There goes a newspaper. Everybody has forgotten what was written on it, but still it spreads itself out, while I sit quietly down here below. I know who I am, and I shall never forget it!"One day the darning needle saw something beside her that glittered splendidly in the sunbeams. It was only a bit of brokenbottle, but because the darning needle was quite sure it was something valuable like a diamond she spoke to it, introducing herself as a breastpin."I suppose you're a diamond?" she asked."Yes, something like that," was the reply.Then, since each thought the other was very important, they began talking about the world, and how conceited everyone was."I used to live in a lady's case," said the darning needle. "And this lady was a cook. On each hand she had five fingers, and you never saw anything so conceited as those five fingers! And yet they were only there so that they could hold me, take me out of my case, and put me back into it.""Did they shine?" asked the bit of bottle glass."Shine? Not at all," said the darning needle. "They were arrogant. There were five brothers, all belonging to the Finger family, and they kept close together, although they were all of different lengths. The one on the outside, Thumbling, who walked out in front of the others, was short and fat and had only one joint in his back, so he could only make a single bow. But he insisted that if he were cut off a person's hand, that person could not be a soldier. Lickpot, the second one, pushed himself into sweet and sour, and pointed at the sun and the moon, and it was he who pressed on the pen when they wrote. Longman, the third, looked over the heads of the others. Guldbrand was the fourth-he always wore a golden belt around his waist. And little Peter Playfellow didn't do anything at all, and was very proud of it. They did nothing but brag all the time; that's why I went down the sink.""And now we just sit here and glitter," said the bit of broken bottle. But just then a flood of water came rushing down thegutter so that it overflowed and swept the bottle glass away."See now! He's been promoted," remarked the darning needle, "but I'm still here. I'm too fine for that sort of thing. But that's my pride, and that is very commendable!" So she sat up straight, lost in many big thoughts. "I almost think I was born a sunbeam, I'm so fine; besides, the sunbeams always seem to be trying to get to me, under the water. I'm so fine that even my mother can't find me. If I had my old eye, the one that broke off, I think I might cry about that. But no! I think I wouldn't cry anyway; it's not at all refined to cry."One day some street boys were grubbing in the gutter, looking for coins and things of that sort. It was filthy work, but they were having a wonderful time."Ouch!" one cried as he pricked himself on the darning needle. "You're a pretty sharp fellow!""I'm not a fellow; I'm a young lady," replied the darning needle. But of course they couldn't hear her.Her sealing wax had come off, and she had turned black; but black always makes you look more slender, and she was sure she was even finer than before."Look!" cried the boys. "Here comes an eggshell sailing along," And they stuck the darning needle fast into the shell."White walls, and I am black myself!" cried the darning needle. "That's very becoming! People can really see me now! I only hope I'm not seasick; that would surely break me!" But she wasn't seasick, and she did not break. "It's a very good protection against seasickness to have a steel stomach and to remember that one is a little finer than ordinary human beings. Oh, yes! I'm all right. The finer you are, the more you can bear.""Crack!" went the eggshell at that moment, for a heavilyloaded wagon ran over it."Goodness, I'm being crushed!" cried the darning needle. "I'm going to get really seasick now! I'm breaking! I'm breaking!" But she didn't break, though the wagon went over her; she lay at full length along the cobblestones, and there we'll leave her.The Angel 安琪儿WHENEVER a good child dies, an angel of God comes down from heaven, takes the dead child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies with him over all the places which the child had loved during his life. Then he gathers a large handful of flowers, which he carries up to the Almighty, that they may bloom more brightly in heaven than they do on earth. And the Almighty presses the flowers to His heart, but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best, and it receives a voice, and is able to join the song of the chorus of bliss."These words were spoken by an angel of God, as he carried a dead child up to heaven, and the child listened as if in a dream. Then they passed over well-known spots, where the little one had often played, and through beautiful gardens full of lovely flowers."Which of these shall we take with us to heaven to be transplanted there?" asked the angel.Close by grew a slender, beautiful, rose-bush, but some wicked hand had broken the stem, and the half-opened rosebuds hung faded and withered on the trailing branches."Poor rose-bush!" said the child, "let us take it with us to heaven, that it may bloom above in God's garden."The angel took up the rose-bush; then he kissed the child, and the little one half opened his eyes. The angel gathered also some beautiful flowers, as well as a few humble buttercups and heart's-ease."Now we have flowers enough," said the child; but the angel only nodded, he did not fly upward to heaven.It was night, and quite still in the great town. Here they remained, and the angel hovered over a small, narrow street, in which lay a large heap of straw, ashes, and sweepings from the houses of people who had removed. There lay fragments of plates, pieces of plaster, rags, old hats, and other rubbish not pleasant to see. Amidst all this confusion, the angel pointed to the pieces of a broken flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had fallen out of it. The earth had been kept from falling to pieces by the roots of a withered field-flower, which had been thrown amongst the rubbish."We will take this with us," said the angel, "I will tell you why as we fly along."And as they flew the angel related the history."Down in that narrow lane, in a low cellar, lived a poor sick boy; he had been afflicted from his childhood, and even in his best days he could just manage to walk up and down the room on crutches once or twice, but no more. During some days in summer, the sunbeams would lie on the floor of the cellar for about half an hour. In this spot the poor sick boy would sit warming himself in the sunshine, and watching the red blood through his delicate fingers as he held them before his face. Then he would say he had been out, yet he knew nothing of the green forest in its spring verdure, till a neighbor's son brought him a green bough from a beech-tree. This he would place over his head, and fancy that he was in the beech-wood while the sun shone, and the birds carolled gayly. One spring day the neighbor's boy brought him some field-flowers, and among them was one to which the root still adhered. This he carefullyplanted in a flower-pot, and placed in a window-seat near his bed. And the flower had been planted by a fortunate hand, for it grew, put forth fresh shoots, and blossomed every year. It became a splendid flower-garden to the sick boy, and his little treasure upon earth. He watered it, and cherished it, and took care it should have the benefit of every sunbeam that found its way into the cellar, from the earliest morning ray to the evening sunset. The flower entwined itself even in his dreams- for him it bloomed, for him spread its perfume. And it gladdened his eyes, and to the flower he turned, even in death, when the Lord called him. He has been one year with God. During that time the flower has stood in the window, withered and forgotten, till at length cast out among the sweepings into the street, on the day of the lodgers' removal. And this poor flower, withered and faded as it is, we have added to our nosegay, because it gave more real joy than the most beautiful flower in the garden of a queen.""But how do you know all this?" asked the child whom the angel was carrying to heaven."I know it," said the angel, "because I myself was the poor sick boy who walked upon crutches, and I know my own flower well."Then the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious happy face of the angel, and at the same moment they found themselves in that heavenly home where all is happiness and joy. And God pressed the dead child to His heart, and wings were given him so that he could fly with the angel, hand in hand. Then the Almighty pressed all the flowers to His heart; but He kissed the withered field-flower, and it received a voice. Then it joined in the song of the angels, who surrounded the throne, some near, and others in a distant circle, but all equally happy. They all joinedin the chorus of praise, both great and small,- the good, happy child, and the poor field-flower, that once lay withered and cast away on a heap of rubbish in a narrow, dark street.。
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小学英语安徒生童话系列（八）TheChildintheGrave墓中的孩子阅读素材by Hans Christian Andersen（1859）IT was a very sad day，and every heart in thehouse felt the deepe st grief；for the youngestchild， a boy of four years old，the jo y and hope ofhis parents，was dead. Two daughters，the elderof who m was going to be confirmed，stillremained：they were both good，charming girls；but the lost child always seems the dearest；andwhen it is youngest ，and a son，it makes the trialstill more heavy. The sisters mour ned as young hearts can mourn，and were especially grievedat the si ght of their parents' sorrow. The father's heart was bowed down，bu t the mothersunk completely under the deep grief. Day and night she had attended to the sick child，nursing and carrying it in her bosom，as a part of herself. She c ould not realize the fact thatthe child was dead，and must be laid in a coffin to rest in the ground. She thought God couldnot take her darling little one from her；and when it did happen notwithst anding her hopes andher belief，and there could be no more doubt o n the subject，she said in her feverishagony，“God does not know it. He has hard-hearted ministering spirits on e arth，who doaccording to their own will，and heed not a mother's prayers.”Thus in her GREat grief shefell away from her faith in G od，and dark thoughts arose in her mind respecting death and afutur e state. She tried to believe that man was but dust，and that wit h his life all existenceended. But these doubts were no support to her，nothing on which she could rest，and shesunk into the fathoml ess depths of despair. In her darkest hours she ceased to weep，andthought not of the young daughters who were still left to her. The tears of her husband fell onher forehead，but she took no notice of him；her thoughts were with her dead child；herwhole existence seemed wrapped up in the remembrances of the little one and of ev eryinnocent word it had uttered.the day of the little child's funeral came. For nights previously th e mother had not slept，but in the morning twilight of this day she sunk from weariness int o a deep sleep；in themean time the coffin was carried into a dis tant room，and there nailed down，that she mightnot hear the blows of the hammer. When she awoke，and wanted to see her child，the husband，with tears，said，“We have closed the coffin；it was necessary to do so.”“When God is so hard to me，how can I expect men to be better？”she said with groansand tears.the coffin was carried to the grave，and the disconsolate mother sa t with her youngdaughters. She looked at them，but she saw them no t；for her thoughts were far away fromthe domestic hearth. She gave herself up to her grief，and it tossed her to and fro，as thes ea tosses a ship without compass or rudder. So the day of the fune ral passed away，andsimilar days followed，of dark，wearisome pain. With tearful eyes and mournful glances，thesorrowing daughters and the afflicted husband looked upon her who would not hear their words of comfort；and，indeed，what comforting words could they speak，when they werethemselves so full of grief？It seemed as if she wou ld never again know sleep，and yet itwould have been her best frie nd，one who would have strengthened her body and pouredpeace into her soul. They at last persuaded her to lie down，and then she wou ld lie as still as ifshe slept.One night，when her husband listened，as he often did，to her br eathing，he quitebelieved that she had at length found rest and rel ief in sleep. He folded his arms and prayed，and soon sunk himself into healthful sleep；therefore he did not no tice that his wife arose，threw on her clothes，and glided silently from the house，to go w here her thoughtsconstantly lingered—to the grave of her child. She passed through the garden，to a pathacross a field that led to the churchyard. No one saw her as she walked，nor did she see anyone ；for her eyes were fixed upon the one object of her wanderings. It was a lovely starlightnight in the beginning of September，and t he air was mild and still. She entered thechurchyard，and stood by the little grave，which looked like a large nosegay of fragrantflo wers. She sat down，and bent her head low over the grave，as if she could see her childthrough the earth that covered him—her litt le boy，whose smile was so vividly before her，andthe gentle expre ssion of whose eyes，even on his sick-bed，she could not forget. How full ofmeaning that glance had been，as she leaned over him，holding in hers the pale hand whichhe had no longer strength to rai se！As she had sat by his little cot，so now she sat by hisgrav e；and here she could weep freely，and her tears fell upon it.“Thou wouldst gladly go down and be with thy child，”said a voic e quite close to her，—avoice that sounded so deep and clear，that it went to her heart.She looked up，and by her side stood a man wrapped in a black cloak，with a hood closelydrawn over his face；but her keen glance could distinguish the face under the hood. It wasstern，yet awakened confidence，and the eyes beamed with youthful radiance.“Down to my child，”she repeated；and tones of despair and entre aty sounded in thewords.“Darest thou to follow me？”asked the form. “I am Death.”She bowed her head in token of assent. then suddenly it appeared as if all the stars wereshining with the radiance of the full moon o n the many-colored flowers that decked the grave.The earth that cover ed it was drawn back like a floating drapery. She sunk down，and thespectre covered her with a black cloak；night closed around her，the night of death. She sankdeeper than the spade of the sexton c ould penetrate，till the churchyard became a roof aboveher. Then the cloak was removed，and she found herself in a large hall，of wi de-spreadingdimensions，in which there was a subdued light，like twi light，reigning，and in a momenther child appeared before her，smi ling，and more beautiful than ever；with a silent cry shepressed h im to her heart. A glorious strain of music sounded—now distant，n ow near. Neverhad she listened to such tones as these；they came f rom beyond a large dark curtain whichseparated the regions of death from the land of eternity.“My sweet，darling mother，”she heard the child say. It was the well-known，belovedvoice；and kiss followed kiss，in boundless del ight. Then the child pointed to the darkcurtain.“There is nothing so beautiful on earth as it is here. Mother，do you not see themall？Oh，it is happiness indeed.”But the mother saw nothing of what the child pointed out，only the dark curtain. Shelooked with earthly eyes，and could not see as t he child saw，—he whom God has called to bewith Himself. She could hear the soun ds of music，but she heard not the words，the Word inwhich she w as to trust.“I can fly now，mother，”said the child；“I can fly with other happy children into thepresence of the Almigh ty. I would fain fly away now；but if you weep for me as you ar eweeping now，you may never see me again. And yet I would go so gladly. May I not fly away？And you will come to me soon，will you not，dear mother？”“Oh，stay，stay！”implored the mother；“only one moment more；only once more，that I may look upon thee，and kiss thee，and press thee to my heart.”then she kissed and fondled her child. Suddenly her name was called from above；whatcould it mean？her name uttered in a plaintive v oice.“Hearest thou？”said the child. “It is my father who calls thee.”And in a few moments deepsighs were heard，as of children weeping. “They are my sisters，”said the child. “Mother，surely you have not forgotten them.”And then she remembered those she left behind，and a GREat terror came over her. Shelooked around her at the dark night. Dim forms fl itted by. She seemed to recognize some ofthem，as they floated through the regions of death towards the dark curtain，where theyvanishe d. Would her husband and her daughters flit past？No；their sighs and lamentationsstill sounded from above；and she had nearly forgot ten them，for the sake of him who wasdead.“Mother，now the bells of heaven are ringing，”said the child；“mother，the sun is goingto rise.”An overpowering light streamed in upon her，the child had vanished，and she was beingborne upwards. All around her became cold；she l ifted her head，and saw that she was lyingin the churchyard，on t he grave of her child. The Lord，in a dream，had been a guide t o herfeet and a light to her spirit. She bowed her knees，and pra yed for forgiveness. She hadwished to keep back a soul from its imm ortal flight；she had forgotten her duties towards theliving who wer e left her. And when she had offered this prayer，her heart felt lighter. The sunburst forth，over her head a little bird carolled h is song，and the church-bells sounded forthe early service. Everythin g around her seemed holy，and her heart was chastened. Sheacknowledg ed the goodness of God，she acknowledged the duties she had to per form，andeagerly she returned home. She bent over her husband，who still slept；her warm，devotedkiss awakened him，and words of he artfelt love fell from the lips of both. Now she was gentleand stro ng as a wife can be；and from her lips came the words of faith：“Whate ver He doethis right and best.”then her husband asked，“From whence hast thou all at once derived such strength andcomforti ng faith？”And as she kissed him and her children，she said，“It came from God，through my childin the grave.”屋子里充满哀伤，心中充满哀伤，最幼小的孩子，一个四岁的男孩，这家人唯一的儿子，父母的欢乐和希望，死掉了。