最后一片常春藤叶-作文
最后的常春藤叶续写
最后的常春藤叶续写【篇一:最后的常春藤叶续写】“天知道这傻姑娘脑中怎么会有这种怪思想。
”站在树下的贝尔曼弯腰抬起那掉落的最后一片常春藤叶,此时的他多想冲到琼珊面前举着这片叶子好好骂一骂那傻姑娘,却又用警惕的眼神看一眼窗口,确定窗帘是拉着的后,小心翼翼地把梯子挪过来,身子歪歪扭扭地踩了上去。
不得不说,老天爷就是在考验贝尔曼的恒心,可怜的贝尔曼刚站上去,天就亮起闪电,刮起风,下起雨来。
老贝尔曼忙脱下外套挡在才完成一半的画前。
是的,他在画那片最后的常春藤叶。
迎风泪顺着他的眼眶就往下掉,大雨溅湿了他的胡子和卷曲的毛发。
拿着画笔的手颤抖着,又不时抹去积在眼眶中不知是雨是泪的液体。
哦是的,他现在的脸估计和墙上的情景差不多。
“这该死的雨!我是疯了才干这种事……”抱怨声连续不断却以极低的分贝从他口中说出。
他或许是感冒了,脑袋开始泛晕。
“真不知道为什么会有雨这种东西……哦天呐,差点让雨淋到灯笼了,这该死的鬼天气……”贝尔曼嘀咕着,声音越来越轻,却始终没有停下手上的活儿。
应该是过了很久,贝尔曼艰难地走下梯子,却一个不稳倒在地上。
“看来我得回去睡一觉,这雨淋得我怪难受的。
”说着,他甩甩头,按了按胸口,一跃一跃地向自己房间挪去,小小的身影从雨中消失,独留墙上一片叶。
雨滴在泥土溅起微粒,又刹那回归泥土,消失的无影无踪……【篇二:《最后的常春藤叶》续写】贝尔曼迈着沉重的步伐走下楼梯,进入他的房间,坐在椅子上呆呆地望着楼下那颗常春藤树,只见上面的叶子在狂风中摇曳着,三片。
两片……贝尔曼先生叫道:“天哪,只剩一片了,可怎么办呢?”他心想:像琼珊这样的姑娘实在不能让它随着这最后一片叶子得漂零而丧失生命。
忽然,他的嘴角泛起了一丝微笑,眼前一亮。
他推开门,风又把他吹了进来,贝尔曼踉跄着坐到了椅子上,外面的狂风依旧,凛冽的风伴着无情的雨猛烈地击打着玻璃窗,贝尔曼又站在了窗前,他犹豫着徘徊着。
不,绝对不,琼珊这样的姑娘不能死去,终于,贝尔曼下定了决心,鼓起勇气,穿上他那不抵寒的棉衣,带上画笔和调色板,手提一盏灯笼,冲出了门外。
最后的常春藤叶英语续写作文
最后的常春藤叶英语续写作文After the last piece of ivy, I finally reached the entrance of the ancient castle. The massive oak doors creaked open as I stepped inside, the musty scent of old books and decaying wood filling the air. The dimly lit corridor stretched out before me, lined with suits of armor and flickering torches.As I made my way deeper into the castle, I could hear the faint sound of whispers echoing off the stone walls. Goosebumps prickled my skin as I realized I was not alone. Shadows danced in the corners of my vision, disappearing as I turned to look.I followed the winding staircase up to the tower room, where a single beam of moonlight filtered through the stained glass window. In the center of the room sat a grand oak desk, covered in ancient parchments and dusty tomes. A flickeringcandle cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating thefigure of a cloaked man facing away from me."Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The figure turned slowly, revealing a face shrouded in darkness. "I am the guardian of this castle," he said, his voice echoing through the room. "You have passed the test of the ivy, and now you must prove yourself worthy."He gestured to a leather-bound book on the desk, itspages filled with cryptic symbols and ancient runes. "Translate this text, and you shall unlock the secrets ofthis castle," he intoned. With trembling hands, I began to decipher the mysterious script, the words resonating deep within my soul.As the final runes fell into place, a blinding light engulfed the room, and the guardian vanished into the shadows.I was left standing in the glow of the moonlight, thewhispers of the castle fading into the night. I had unlockedthe secrets of the ancient castle, and now its mysteries were mine to discover. And so, my journey into the unknown began, fueled by the power of the ivy and the magic of the castle.。
最后一片常春藤叶原文阅读
最后一片常春藤叶原文阅读老贝尔曼这家伙,真是个怪老头。
他那把年纪了,还整天拿着画笔在破旧的画室里晃悠,说是要画出什么惊世骇俗的大作。
可咱们这邻里街坊的,谁不知道他那点手艺,也就勉强能糊弄糊弄外行吧。
但说来也怪,他这人虽然平时看起来邋里邋遢的,可一旦聊起画来,那眼睛里头就跟有光似的,闪闪发亮。
这段时间,咱们这条街上出了件大事,琼珊姑娘病得不轻,医生说她啊,心里头没了盼头,怕是好不了了。
她整天盯着窗外那棵老常春藤看,说是等最后一片叶子落了,她也就跟着去了。
这话听着让人心里头不是滋味,咱们都替她着急,可又有什么办法呢?老贝尔曼听说了这事儿,起初还跟咱们一块儿调侃几句,说什么“叶子哪能说落就落,那得看老天爷的意思”。
可没过多久,他就变了个人似的,整天神神秘秘的,不知道在捣鼓些什么。
咱们问他,他也不说,就笑眯眯地摆摆手,说是“秘密”。
那天晚上,风大得吓人,雨点子跟豆子似的往下砸。
咱们都躲在家里头,生怕被淋个透心凉。
可老贝尔曼呢,他却在这个时候出门了,手里还拿着他那把破旧的画笔和颜料。
咱们心里头那个急啊,生怕他这把老骨头给风给雨给折腾散了。
第二天清早,雨停了,风也小了。
咱们赶紧跑到琼珊姑娘的窗前,想看看那最后一片叶子还在不在。
嘿,你猜怎么着?那叶子啊,不仅没有落,反而比昨天更加鲜绿,更加有生气了!咱们都愣住了,心里头那个惊讶啊,简直无法用言语来形容。
后来咱们才知道,原来那最后一片叶子是老贝尔曼画上去的!他冒着风雨,爬到那棵老常春藤上,用他那双颤抖的手,一笔一划地画出了那片叶子。
他说啊,他不能让琼珊姑娘就这么没了盼头,他得给她留下点希望。
这事儿传开后啊,咱们这条街上的人都对老贝尔曼刮目相看了。
他那把年纪了还能做出这样的事情来真是让人佩服得五体投地。
琼珊姑娘的病也渐渐好转了她说是那片叶子给了她力量让她有了活下去的勇气。
现在啊每当咱们走过那棵老常春藤都会忍不住多看几眼那片叶子它不仅仅是片叶子了它是老贝尔曼对琼珊姑娘的关爱和希望的象征。
最后一片常春藤叶续写英语作文
最后一片常春藤叶续写英语作文题目:The Last Ivy Leaf: An Unfading LegacyIn the quietude of an autumnal night, the wind whispered through the deserted alleyway, carrying with it the rustling of leaves and the echoes of an indomitable spirit. It was here, beneath the aged brick wall adorned with the last remaining ivy vine, that the story of resilience and hope found its continuation. This singular leaf, an emblem of tenacity amidst adversity, had become more than a symbol; it was a testament to the unwavering bond between two artists, a beacon of inspiration, and a narrative that transcended time itself.The years had passed, yet the legend of the last ivy leaf persisted, its tale etched deeply into the collective memory of the neighborhood. The once-dilapidated building now housed the "Belleman Art Institute," a sanctuary dedicated to nurturing young talents and preserving the legacy of its namesake, John Belleman. The ivy-clad wall, meticulously restored, served as the institute's emblem, its verdant expanse a stark contrast to the monochromatic cityscape.As the autumn chill set in, the ivy vine began shedding its emerald cloak, each leaf surrendering to the inevitable cycle of decay. Yet, there remained one, steadfast and unyielding,clinging to the wall as if defying the laws of nature. It was not the same leaf that had captivated the hearts of the ailing artist, Sue, and her devoted friend, Jo, decades ago, but rather a new embodiment of the same inexplicable defiance. Year after year, as the final leaf clung resolutely to its stem, it became a ritual for the students and faculty of the institute to gather and bear witness to this annual marvel.On this particular October evening, as the moon cast its silver glow upon the ivy-clad wall, the students assembled, huddled together against the crisp breeze. Their eyes were fixed on the solitary leaf, its vibrant green hue standing in stark contrast to the surrounding emptiness. A hush fell over the crowd as they awaited the moment when the leaf would, against all odds, confirm its immortality once again.Suddenly, a soft glow emanated from within the leaf, as if imbued with a life force of its own. The ivy's veins seemed to pulse with an ethereal light, casting intricate shadows on the brick surface below. The students gasped in awe as the leaf began to transform, its green pigment giving way to a kaleidoscope of colors—ruby reds, sapphire blues, and golden yellows—each hue representing the countless lives touched and inspired by the original leaf's tale.As the spectacle reached its climax, the multicolored leaf shimmered, then slowly dissolved into a shower of luminous particles that drifted gently to the ground. In its place emerged a fresher, greener leaf, its emergence signaling the perpetuation of the unbroken chain. It was not magic, nor was it a defiance of nature's order; rather, it was the manifestation of the collective belief and the indomitable human spirit that had come to embody the last ivy leaf.This annual transformation, witnessed by generations of aspiring artists, had become a metaphor for the enduring power of art and the resilience of the human soul. Each year, the leaf's renewal served as a reminder that even in the face of adversity, creativity and hope could defy the grip of despair. It taught the students that the legacy of John Belleman lived on not only in the ivy that adorned the wall but also in the hearts of those who dared to dream, to create, and to persevere.Thus, the last ivy leaf continued to be more than a botanical anomaly; it was a living testament to the transformative power of art and the timeless bond between artists past and present. As the years rolled by, the legend grew, inspiring countless tales, paintings, and poems, each a testament to the enduring spirit that had first captured theimagination of a struggling artist and her loyal friend so long ago. And so, the story of the last ivy leaf remained an unfading legacy, forever intertwined with the seasons, the bricks, and the dreams of those who sought solace and inspiration in its unyielding presence.。
最后的常春藤叶续写作文
最后的常春藤叶续写作文最后的常春藤叶续写作文最后的常春藤叶续写作文1当苏艾画好她的画时,已经是深更半夜,老贝尔曼点了根烟,有些醉酒似的走下楼,来到他的画室。
贝尔曼有些犹豫,这个电闪雷鸣的夜晚,因为琼珊的病,苏艾的神情,还有窗外的雷声,老贝尔曼在漆黑的画室里若有所思的低着头,像这样一切都无所谓的老头竟也对生命有了些感慨。
这些女人的世界里到底装了些什么,竟然拿自己的生命开玩笑!琼珊小姐的梦想是去那不勒斯湾吗?虽然那里不是很好,可也是个让人上进的梦想!哎,那藤叶……贝尔曼望下窗户,开始,他都有点儿害臊,好像我一个60岁的人,还拿生命开玩笑,但他的视线投向那无尽的黑夜,找那株常春藤,5、4、3……这些数字带给它的是一种悲伤。
贝尔曼严肃地把视线停留在他那黑暗中依然醒悟的画布。
在这间丑陋的画室了,一切都是冰冷的,那时的他执着于手中的画笔,展示自己的才华。
现在我已经老了,这张画布难道要一辈子空白,不,不能一辈子空白,贝尔曼走到窗前,擦着火柴,原来最后一片叶子也不知去何处了。
贝尔曼又一次望向窗外,此时此刻,他又想到了琼珊,贝尔曼长叹了一口气。
心中已经有了决定。
贝尔曼缓慢的出了门,风还在刮着,雨还在下着。
为了琼珊,在这样一个凄风苦雨的夜晚,他不顾一切坐在树下开始画起了常春藤的最后一片叶子,最后一片永不凋零的叶子。
当天刚刚亮起来时,贝尔曼完成了他的画,他全身湿透,浑身冰冷,脸色苍白,下肢有些僵硬。
但是,他看着那片叶子,开心的笑了。
这就是老贝尔曼一生的杰作,他困难地向楼梯爬去,在楼梯拐角处,他倒下了……最后的常春藤叶续写作文2那一夜门外,雨不住的瓢泼着,雨声时常连成一片轰鸣,天像裂开了无数道口子,暴雨汇成瀑布,朝大地倾泻下来。
风不停的咆哮着,洗礼了万物,一切变得不再是那么的美好。
贝尔曼走到窗头,凝视着这漫漫长夜,他看到了黑暗笼罩住那淡黄的弯月,雨水的洗刷,月仿佛在哭泣,月相呈现的是苏艾倒在床前涕泗横流,还有个朦胧的'人静静躺在床上,能看到只有那人脸上欣慰的笑容,但脸颊却被遮挡了,无法看清。
最后的常春藤叶续写
最后的常春藤叶续写
【篇一:最后的常春藤叶续写】
“天知道这傻姑娘脑中怎么会有这种怪思想。
”站在树下的贝尔曼弯腰抬起那掉落的最后一片常春藤叶,此时的他多想冲到琼珊面前举着这片叶子好好骂一骂那傻姑娘,却又用警惕的眼神看一眼窗口,确定窗帘是拉着的后,小心翼翼地把梯子挪过来,身子歪歪扭扭地踩了上去。
不得不说,老天爷就是在考验贝尔曼的恒心,可怜的贝尔曼刚站上去,天就亮起闪电,刮起风,下起雨来。
老贝尔曼忙脱下外套挡在才完成一半的画前。
是的,他在画那片最后的常春藤叶。
迎风泪顺着他的眼眶就往下掉,大雨溅湿了他的胡子和卷曲的毛发。
拿着画笔的手颤抖着,又不时抹去积在眼眶中不知是雨是泪的液体。
哦是的,他现在的脸估计和墙上的情景差不多。
“这该死的雨!我是疯了才干这种事……”抱怨声连续不断却以极低的分贝从他口中说出。
他或许是感冒了,脑袋开始泛晕。
“真不知道为什么会有雨这种东西……哦天呐,差点让雨淋到灯笼了,这该死的鬼天气……”贝尔曼嘀咕着,声音越来越轻,却始终没有停下手上的活儿。
应该是过了很久,贝尔曼艰难地走下梯子,却一个不稳。
最后一片常春藤叶续写英语作文
最后一片常春藤叶续写英语作文In the waning days of autumn, the final leaf of the ivy vine clung valiantly to its branch, defying the relentless pull of winter. Its green hue, once vibrant and lush, had now faded to a muted shade, yet it persevered, a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity.In the cramped apartment below, a young artist lay bedridden, her gaze fixed upon that solitary leaf. Her world had narrowed to the four walls of her sickroom, and the leaf outside her window had become a beacon of hope. As long as it remained, she believed, her own will to live would persist.Days passed, and the cold of winter grew ever more intense. The other leaves had succumbed to the frost, leaving only the last one to brave the elements. And still, it clung stubbornly to its perch, as if by some invisible force.One evening, a storm lashed the city with fierce winds and driving rain. The artist lay trembling beneath her covers, her eyes fixed on the window. The rain pelted theglass, and the wind howled through the cracks, but her gaze never left the ivy leaf.As the storm reached its peak, a loud crack echoed through the apartment. The artist's heart skipped a beat as she watched, horrified, as the branch that held the last leaf snapped in half. But, to her amazement, the leaf did not fall. Instead, it hung suspended in mid-air, held in place by a threadbare strand of vine.As the storm abated and the night drew to a close, the artist's breathing slowed. She had witnessed a miracle, a testament to the indomitable spirit of life. The last leaf, against all odds, had survived the storm. And so, too, would she.With renewed strength, the artist began her slow recovery. She rose from her bed, her gaze now fixed on the future rather than the past. She returned to her canvas, her brushstrokes now filled with a newfound determination and joy.And as the days grew longer and the winter's chill began to lift, the last leaf of the ivy vine finally let go of its hold. It fell gently to the ground, its missioncomplete. But its legacy lived on in the heart of the artist, who had found the strength to overcome her own adversity.The last leaf had taught her a valuable lesson: that resilience and hope are often found in the most unexpected places, and that it is never too late to believe in oneself and the power of the human spirit.**最后一片常春藤叶的遗产**在秋天即将结束的日子里,常春藤藤上最后一片叶子顽强地挂在树枝上,抗拒着冬天的无情侵蚀。
最后一片常春藤叶续写英语作文
The Last Ivy LeafIn the dimly lit room, the sickly young artist John Sylvia lay on his bed, his gaze fixed on the blank wall opposite him. The room was a stark contrast to the vibrant cityscape outside, its only decoration a few sparse paintings and a dying ivy plant hanging on the wall.Sylvia's heart was heavy with despair; the doctors had given him little hope of recovery, and the cold, unfeeling world seemed to echo their prognosis.As the days passed, the leaves of the ivy plant逐渐凋零, one by one, until only one lonely leaf remained. That leaf became a symbol of Sylvia's own fading life, a constant reminder of his impending doom. Each day, he would gaze at it, willing it to stay green, knowing that its fall would mark the end of his own battle.One rainy night, a mysterious figure appeared outside Sylvia's window. It was an elderly painter, an acquaintance of Sylvia's, who had been moved by his plight. In a moment of kindness, the painter decided to paint a fake ivy leaf on the wall, hoping to give Sylvia something to fight for.The next morning, when Sylvia awoke, he saw the lastleaf still clinging to the wall, defiant in the face of the elements. A spark of hope ignited in his heart, and he felt a renewed determination to live. With each passing day, he grew stronger, and the leaf remained stubbornly green.Weeks later, when the painter revealed his deed, Sylvia was overcome with gratitude and amazement. He realized that it was not just the leaf that had kept him alive, but the kindness and compassion of a stranger. The last ivy leafhad become a symbol of hope and resilience, a reminder that even in the darkest hours, there is always a reason to fight.As the spring sun warmed the city, Sylvia's strength returned, and he began to paint again. His paintings were filled with a newfound vibrancy and hope, a testament tothe transformative power of kindness. And the ivy plant,now fully restored, became a symbol of Sylvia's rebirth, a constant reminder of the resilience of the human spirit.**最后一片常春藤叶**在昏暗的房间里,病弱的年轻艺术家约翰·西尔维娅躺在床上,目光凝视着对面空白的墙壁。
最后的常春藤叶
最后的常春藤叶黄昏,医生收起了他的听诊器,扬起他那黑色的大眉毛,惊讶地说:“你的肺炎病情减轻如此之快,可真是个奇迹!”琼珊虚弱地笑了笑。
“想想当时那些求生信念吧,你会好得更快”。
医生絮絮地说着,整理起他的器械箱。
苏艾送走医生后,握了握自己一直颤抖个不停的双手,在之前那个可怕的夜晚,琼珊的烧发得那么厉害,就像一块烧红的炭似的扎手。
现在她终于可能松口气了,总不会比那会儿更糟吧。
她吹着老旧的拉格泰姆曲调走进琼珊的房间,琼珊脸朝着窗口,一点动静都没有,苏艾的心仿佛被锤头狠狠地敲了一下,她赶快走到窗前,向对着床的窗口望去:窗外一株老常春藤上还吊着几片叶子。
“你放心吧,现在凋零的叶子已经影响不到我了,与那时候比,发这点小烧算什么?”苏艾回头一看,琼珊正微笑着看向自己,“那就好,亲爱的,要不要喝汤?”“不,你给我讲讲,那时我病得不轻,有些事还糊里糊涂的。
”“嗯,那时候啊,你说要像可怜的叶子往下飘,可把我给吓的!那时贝尔曼先生还在楼下嘟嚷了半天,不愿给我当模特呢。
那时候啊,”苏艾闭上眼,过去的一幕幕随着她的回忆被逐渐翻开——“你老是盯着窗外的常春藤不放,我怎么劝你都不听,直到那天,贝尔曼先生盯着叶子看了半天,第二天,那墙上只剩下一片叶子,靠近叶柄的颜色还是深绿的,但是锯齿形的边缘已染上枯败的黄色,它傲然挂在离地面二十来英尺的一根藤枝上面,你看了它好久,终于,你知道吗?那时你说的一句话给了我多少的快乐,你说你要去那不勒斯海湾写生,天!这句话给我多少力量,我甚至以为我们又可以在一起画画挣钱,看贝尔曼先生画出杰作,然后和我们一起离开这里……可是,到了下午,医生却告诉我,贝尔曼先生也得了肺炎,而且病得不轻……我实在是想不通,二天前他还和我一起为常春藤叶发愁呢,怎么突然就得了肺炎?!”“那然后呢?”琼珊禁不住追问道。
“然后,第二天下午,我得知了贝尔曼先生的死讯,同时得知的,就是那片在风中不飘不动的藤叶来源,是的,那是贝尔曼先生在那晚最后的一片叶子掉落时,画在墙上的……啊,天不早了,亲爱的,你该休息了,”苏艾说着站起来,拉上了窗帘,向外走去。
最后一片藤叶作文
最后一片藤叶作文最后一片藤叶作文最后一片藤叶作文1太阳悄悄地落下,街灯慢慢地亮起,医院四周一片宁静,彷佛掉进了一个无声的世界。
琼珊躺在仁爱医院的病床上,脸朝着窗口,目不转睛地望着窗外的那棵老藤树。
秋天的脚步可真快啊!转眼就到了冬天,原本枝叶繁茂的老藤树也落得只剩最后一片叶子。
原来,琼珊住进医院也快三个月了。
”当最后一片藤叶掉落的时候,我也要死了。
”琼珊喃喃地说。
昨天,她无意中从护士小姐那里听到,她的病只有一成希望了,而且那一成希望是在于她自己要不要活下去。
接下来的日子,琼珊每天留意着那最后的一片藤叶,心中早已做好了离开的准备。
日子一天天过去了。
可是,那最后的一片藤叶依旧依附在茎上,迎着冬风,顶着严寒。
琼珊望着那片顽强的藤叶,心中慢慢升起了希望。
她开始乐观地面对自己的病,积极地配合治疗,主动接触别人,开心地笑……冬天悄悄地过去了,琼珊竟然抓住了那一成希望,奇迹般地康复了。
出院那天,她特意跑去看那片曾给她希望和动力的藤叶。
可是,藤上光秃秃的,一片叶子也没有。
反而是藤树后面的墙壁上,画着一片绿色的叶子。
原来,最后的那片藤叶早已经掉落。
有人怕琼珊失去希望,在墙壁上画了一片叶子,想用这种办法留住最后的一片藤叶,留住琼珊最后的希望。
最后一片藤叶作文2今天,我看了[美国]欧.亨利写的《最后一片藤叶》。
文章写了一个叫珍妮的小姑娘得了重病。
她失去了康复的信心,看着窗外在深秋的寒风中发抖的唯一一片藤叶说:“这片叶子落了,我就要去天堂了。
”这件事让贝尔曼先生知道了,当天夜里,他顶着暴风雨,在藤上画了一片叶子。
就这样珍妮有了活下去的勇气,而贝尔曼得病去世了。
文中“摇晃”一词可以看出这片叶子很快就会掉下来的,也暗示了珍妮脆弱的信心。
“风雨交加”一词可以看出那一夜风雨非常大。
“凝视”一词可以看出珍妮眼睛一动也不动,看着窗外的藤叶,把自己生的希望寄托在那片藤叶上。
“流泪不止”一词可以看出珍妮对贝尔曼先生的感激。
文中“‘别说了!’母亲喊道,‘那叶子怎么会是你的生命呢!别说傻话了!”可以看出文中的母亲非常爱珍妮;“‘怎么办呢,怎么办才好呢…….’贝尔曼先生望着珍妮苍白的脸的低声嘟囔着。
最后一片常春藤叶子续写英语作文100字
最后一片常春藤叶子续写英语作文100字全文共3篇示例,供读者参考篇1The Last Ivy LeafThe last ivy leaf swayed gently in the crisp autumn breeze, holding on tightly to the weathered brick wall. Its deep green color had faded slightly, a sign of the changing season. The once vibrant leaves that had covered the wall were now scattered on the ground, leaving this final leaf alone to face the inevitable.As the days grew colder and the nights longer, the ivy leaf knew that its time was coming to an end. It had lived a long life, providing shade and beauty to the wall it had called home for so many years. But now, as winter approached, it was time to say goodbye.The ivy leaf watched as the other leaves were swept away by the wind, their journey now complete. It felt a sense of loneliness, knowing that soon it would be all alone on the wall. But it also felt a sense of peace, knowing that it had served its purpose well.As the first snowflakes began to fall, the ivy leaf released its grip on the wall and floated gracefully to the ground. It landedsoftly on a bed of fallen leaves, joining its companions in their final resting place. And as it lay there, surrounded by the beauty of nature, the ivy leaf knew that it had lived a good life.And so, as winter settled in and the world grew quiet, the last ivy leaf found peace in knowing that it had been a part of something greater than itself. It may have been the last leaf to fall, but its legacy would live on in the memories of those who had admired its beauty. And as the seasons changed and new life began to bloom, the ivy leaf would always be remembered as a symbol of strength, resilience, and beauty in the face of change.篇2The Last Ivy LeafAs the last Ivy leaf on the ancient wall, I cling on stubbornly despite the harsh winter winds and biting cold. It has been a long journey since I sprouted from a tiny seed, growing and reaching towards the sun while intertwining with my fellow leaves. But now, I am the last one standing, a reminder of the beauty and resilience of nature.With each passing day, I see more and more of my companions fall, their vibrant green turning to a pale yellow before finally succumbing to the inevitability of the changingseasons. But I refuse to give up. I hold on fiercely, determined to defy the odds and survive until the first signs of spring appear.As I watch the world around me transform into a barren and cold landscape, I find solace in the memories of warmer days and the gentle caress of the sun on my leaves. I know that soon enough, the cycle of life will begin anew, and I will once again be surrounded by the lush greenery of my kind.But for now, I am content to be the last Ivy leaf, a symbol of strength and endurance in the face of adversity. And as the winter winds howl around me, I stand tall and proud, a defiant reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always a glimmer of hope.篇3The Last Ivy LeafI stood at the edge of the field, watching as the wind whispered through the trees. The leaves rustled in a symphony of sound, but one leaf stood out among the rest. It was the last ivy leaf, clinging stubbornly to the vine as if unwilling to let go.I approached the ivy leaf, reaching out a hand to touch its fragile surface. The leaf was withered and worn, a testament tothe changing of the seasons. I realized that this leaf was a symbol of resilience, of holding on despite the odds.As I gazed at the ivy leaf, memories flooded my mind. I remembered the first time I had seen it, vibrant and green, a promise of new life in the spring. I recalled the days spent walking through the ivy-covered grove, the beauty of nature surrounding me.But now, as winter approached, the ivy leaf was fading, its time coming to an end. I felt a pang of sadness in my heart, knowing that soon it would drift to the ground, joining the other fallen leaves in the cycle of life.But then I realized that the ivy leaf was not truly gone. Its spirit lived on in the vine, in the roots that connected it to the earth. And so I smiled, knowing that even in death, the ivy leaf would endure.As I turned to leave the field, I made a silent promise to cherish the memories of the last ivy leaf, to hold them close to my heart. For in the end, it was not the leaf itself that was important, but the beauty and wonder it had brought into my life. And that, I knew, would never fade.。
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文The last ivy leaf clung to the vine, a solitary survivor amidst the barren branches. Its once vibrant green had faded to a muted olivine, the edges brittle and curled. Yet, in that final hour, it refused to surrender, defiant against the cruel caress of winter's chill.As the world around it slumbered, the leaf contemplated its fate. It had borne witness to the changing of the seasons, the dance of life and death that played out endlessly in the natural world. From the first unfurling of its delicate form to this, its final moment, the leaf had been a silent observer, a steadfast companion to the ivy that had nurtured it.Now, as the wind howled and the snow began to fall, the leaf found itself alone, the last vestige of a once-thriving plant. It struggled to find meaning in its solitude, to derive comfort from the memories it held. The laughter of children as they ran through the ivy-covered trellis the summer past the gentle caress of a lover's hand as they strolled by the verdant vines the squirrels that had once made their home within the leafy embrace all these recollections flitted throughthe leaf's consciousness, a tapestry of experiences that had given it purpose.Yet, as the temperature plummeted and the darkness deepened, the leaf could not help but feel a profound sense of melancholy. It knew that its time was drawing to a close, that the last vestiges of its life would soon be extinguished. The thought filled it with a bittersweet longing, a desire to hold on to the world it had come to know and love.In a final, desperate act, the leaf clung to the vine, its tendrils wrapping around the weathered bark with a tenacity born of pure instinct. It knew that it could not defy the inevitable, that the forces of nature would eventually claim it, but in that moment, it refused to surrender without a fight.As the hours ticked by, the leaf watched as the world around it transformed. The once-vibrant garden lay blanketed in a pristine layer of white, the once-lush foliage reduced to skeletal silhouettes against the stark backdrop. The leaf could feel the chill seeping into its veins, a slow and steady progression that threatened to rob it of its last reserves of strength.Yet, even in the face of such adversity, the leaf found solace in the knowledge that it had not lived in vain. It had been a witness to theebb and flow of life, a silent guardian of the natural world that had nurtured it. And in that final moment, as the last vestiges of its strength waned, the leaf found a newfound peace.With a gentle rustling, it released its grip on the vine, allowing the wind to carry it away. As it drifted through the air, the leaf felt a profound sense of liberation, a freedom from the constraints of the physical world. It was as if it had been reborn, shedding its earthly form to embrace a higher plane of existence.In that moment, the leaf felt a connection to something greater than itself, a cosmic tapestry that stretched far beyond the confines of the garden. It saw the cyclical nature of life, the ebb and flow of seasons, the eternal dance of creation and destruction. And in that understanding, the leaf found a renewed sense of purpose, a knowledge that its existence had not been in vain.As it descended to the snow-covered ground, the leaf felt a sense of contentment wash over it. It had fulfilled its destiny, had played its role in the grand scheme of things. And though its physical form would soon be reclaimed by the earth, the leaf knew that its essence would live on, a part of the eternal cycle that sustained the natural world.In the stillness of the winter night, the last ivy leaf finally succumbedto the cold, its delicate edges crumbling into the pristine snow. But in that moment of surrender, the leaf knew that it had achieved a kind of immortality, a transcendence of the physical that would echo through the ages.For the leaf had not simply been a passive observer, but an active participant in the grand drama of life. It had witnessed the triumphs and tragedies, the joys and sorrows, that defined the human experience. And in that understanding, it had found a deeper connection to the world around it, a sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries of its own existence.As the snow continued to fall, the last ivy leaf dissolved into the earth, its essence mingling with the soil that had nurtured it. And in that final act of transformation, the leaf knew that it had found its true purpose, a legacy that would continue to shape the world long after its physical form had faded away.。
五年级 读后感 最后一片常春藤叶
五年级读后感一片常春藤叶《五年级读后感一片常春藤叶》作文一《一片常春藤叶》这本书真的太让我感动啦!故事里的琼西得了很严重的病,她觉得自己就像窗外的常春藤叶一样,等一片叶子掉落,她的生命也就结束了。
可是,有个叫贝尔曼的老画家,在一个风雨交加的晚上,为了给琼西画一片永远不会掉落的叶子,付出了自己的生命。
这让我明白了,人与人之间的关爱是多么的重要。
就像我的同桌,有一次我忘带铅笔了,他主动把他的铅笔借给我,让我能顺利完成作业。
贝尔曼爷爷就像我的同桌一样,用自己的爱给了琼西活下去的希望。
我觉得我们都应该像贝尔曼爷爷那样,去关心和帮助身边的人,说不定我们小小的一个举动,就能给别人带来大大的力量呢!作文二读了《一片常春藤叶》,我的心里有好多好多的感受。
故事中的琼西那么脆弱,那么绝望,我真为她担心。
但是贝尔曼爷爷真的太伟大啦!他画的那片叶子,看起来普普通通,却有着神奇的力量。
这让我想起了我的邻居奶奶。
有一次我不小心摔倒了,膝盖破了皮,疼得直哭。
奶奶看到后,赶紧把我扶回家,给我消毒、包扎伤口,还一直安慰我。
她的关心就像那片常春藤叶一样,让我觉得温暖又安心。
这个故事告诉我们,爱能创造奇迹。
我们也要学会去爱别人,让世界变得更美好。
《五年级读后感一片常春藤叶》作文一《一片常春藤叶》这个故事,让我的心一直暖暖的。
琼西病得那么重,都快要放弃自己了,可那片叶子给了她希望。
贝尔曼爷爷用自己的生命画了那片叶子,真的好勇敢。
就像上次我们班拔河比赛,眼看就要输了,大家都没力气了。
但是我们互相加油打气,谁也没有放弃,竟然赢啦!这就和故事里的那片叶子一样,给了我们坚持下去的力量。
我想,在生活中,当我的朋友遇到困难时,我也要像贝尔曼爷爷那样,给他们鼓励和帮助。
作文二读完《一片常春藤叶》,我被深深地打动了。
琼西觉得叶子掉光自己就会死,这多让人心疼呀。
还好有贝尔曼爷爷,他画出的叶子给了琼西活下去的勇气。
我记得有一回,我的好朋友考试没考好,特别难过。
【想象】最后一片藤叶_900字
【想象】最后一片藤叶_900字一片藤叶慢慢地掉落在地上,落在被那些小孩们踏得花花绿的地上。
这片藤叶有些苍老,也有些脆弱,因为它经历了太多的风风雨雨,被阳光暴晒,又被暴雨打击。
这是一片来自于深山里的叶子,这里没有城市的喧嚣,也没有现代的发展,只有那些永远不变的山水林海和这片纯净的土地。
这里没有铺成马路和水泥建筑,这里也没有污染和浮躁,它只是一个自发生命的自然的世界。
这片藤叶也是这个过去的世界的一部分,它曾是那些藤蔓之一的一部分,带动了树木的生长,让山林更加茂盛。
它曾经在经历过春夏秋冬后,见证了山水的变化,经历了这个世界的风风雨雨,而它却还是坚挺地生长着。
但是,随着时间的推移,这片藤叶慢慢地开始变老,变得越来越脆弱。
无论是在风中晃动还是被阳光直射,这片藤叶的颜色都渐渐地变得暗淡,它的身体也变得越来越脆弱,有些许的裂痕和缺口,让人感觉到它即将结束自己的生命。
正当这片藤叶要悄悄地脱离这个世界时,它却慢慢地被一阵微风吹起,默默地舞动着。
就这样,它像一只在风中飘荡的小船,穿过了那些红叶和金黄的梧桐,跃入了茂密的山林之中。
在这里,这片藤叶还是保持着它的生机,它还是在不断地舞动着,向远方飞去。
在它的身后,那些枯萎和凋谢的植物和树木已经归于平静和寂静。
这片藤叶的生命虽然如同一场短暂的梦,但它却是在自然界中留下了这份美好,这份纯粹,这份永恒。
最后,这片藤叶终于飘落在了一片绿草如茵的地方,而它就在这片绿草之间度过了它生命的最后一瞬间,若是你仔细观察,便可以看到,这片藤叶的生命已刚刚完结,一切都已经归于平静,而这片藤叶,也由此变成了这片绿草之间的一份子,成为了这片纯净的土地上的另一种存在。
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文English:As the last Ivy leaf gently fell to the ground, a sense of nostalgia washed over me. The memories of late night study sessions, passionate debates in lecture halls, and lazy afternoons spent on the quad all came flooding back. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness knowing that this chapter of my life was coming to an end. But as I watched the leaf settle among its fallen brethren, I realized that while this chapter was closing, a new one was about to begin. The lessons learned, friendships made, and experiences lived during my time at this prestigious institution would forever be etched into my heart. And as I stood there, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the campus, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the privilege of being a part of the Ivy League experience.中文翻译:当最后一片常春藤叶轻轻落到地面上时,一股怀旧之情袭上了我心头。
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文
最后的常春藤叶续写,英语作文The last tendrils of the ivy clung desperately to the weathered stone wall, their delicate green leaves trembling in the crisp autumn breeze. The once vibrant foliage now looked tired and weary, a stark reminder of the passing of time and the inevitable end of all living things.藤蔓的最后一丝还紧紧地缠绕在风化的石墙上,它们娇嫩的绿叶在清爽的秋风中微微颤抖。
曾经充满生机的叶子现在看起来疲倦不堪,这是对时间流逝和一切生命都将终结的醒目提醒。
For years, the ivy had thrived and grown, its lush foliage providing a stunning backdrop for countless photos and a source of shade and shelter for the creatures that called the garden home. But now, as the days grew shorter and the temperatures dropped, the once verdant leaves were starting to wither and fade, a poignant symbolof the changing seasons and the ephemeral nature of life.多年来,常春藤茁壮成长,茂密的叶子为无数的照片提供了绝美的背景,也为居住在花园中的生物提供了荫凉和庇护。
《最后的常春藤叶》补充描写作文(5篇)
《最后的常春藤叶》补充描写作文题目制定】同学们认真阅读课文《最后的常春藤叶》,然后对《最后的常春藤叶》中省略的贝尔曼画树叶的过程进行补充描写。
要求注意记叙文的叙事结构,特别细节刻画,不少于800字。
习作例文生命的高度回到家里,老贝尔曼心里总像装着什么似的,在屋里来回踱着步子,一幅忧心忡忡的样子。
窗外,夜色渐浓,寒风夹着雪花下个不停,拼命的拍打着常春藤那最后一片叶子。
老贝尔曼望着窗外,脑子里不断重复着苏艾的话。
他眉头紧皱,时时摇动着他那萨蒂尔似的脑袋,发出一声声繁重的叹息。
他为琼珊而伤心,而惋惜。
他不甘心眼睁睁看着琼珊因此而离去。
老贝尔曼似有所悟,他郑重的点点头,起身朝门口走去。
打开门,迎着深冬刺骨的寒风,老贝尔曼困难的一步步移向仓库——一间已经颓废的瓦房。
老贝尔曼从仓库中扛一把梯子,又迎着寒风,忍受着冰凉的雪花拍打在脸上的疼痛,他更加困难的一步步移向那棵邪恶的常春藤。
他要为琼珊的生命添上一笔。
老贝尔曼那充血的眼睛早已被寒风吹得红肿,充满泪水。
他那似米开朗琪罗的摩西雕像的胡子也早已僵硬。
浑身上下,都因融化的雪花而湿淋淋的往外渗水。
老贝尔曼半眯着眼睛,用冻得发青的像松树皮般粗糙的双手将梯子开在墙上,像一个蜗牛般慢慢爬上了题字。
老贝尔曼要用自己的行动,拯救这肃冬的最后一片常春藤叶——一个鲜活的生命。
贝尔曼爬上梯子,从兜里掏出他早已调好色的画笔,在灰暗的灯光下,双手瑟缩着画出了他人生中最有意义的杰作——一片常春藤叶。
老贝尔曼瑟缩着,又如蜗牛般从梯子上爬了下来。
顾不得揉一揉红肿的泪腺,顾不得暖一暖冻得麻木的双手,他又一步步困难的回到了居所。
屋外,寒风夹杂着雪花更加肆无忌惮乱舞。
老贝尔曼站在窗前,他吃力得尽量睁大自己充血的,红肿的双眼,奋力望向那棵邪恶的常春藤。
树上,那最后一片常春藤叶最终没有拗过寒风,悄无声息的飘落了。
但是,另一片新生的叶子又悄然而生,持续着他未完成的使命——做生命的守望者。
贝尔曼铁青的脸上绽开了似火的笑容……爱暖人间夜幕降临,雨依旧淅淅沥沥的下着,风凛冽的吹着,老天似乎专门爱与人开个不大不小的玩笑似的,这几天从来没好过。
最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景600字
最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景600字作文一《最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景》在那个风雨交加的夜晚,贝尔曼先生提着他那破旧的灯笼,晃晃悠悠地走向了那堵爬满常春藤的墙。
他的脚步有些蹒跚,嘴里还嘟囔着:“这可怜的孩子,可不能就这么失去了希望。
”风呼呼地吹着,雨噼里啪啦地打在他身上。
贝尔曼先生顾不上这些,他找了个能站稳的地方,把灯笼挂在一旁。
他眯着眼睛,仔细地看着那几乎掉光叶子的藤。
然后,他拿起画笔,蘸上颜料,颤抖着的手努力想要画出一片完美的叶子。
他一边画,一边自言自语:“要绿,要充满生机。
”那专注的神情,仿佛他不是在画一片叶子,而是在创造一个生命。
终于,一片栩栩如生的叶子出现在了墙上。
贝尔曼先生满意地笑了,可他也累得瘫倒在地。
作文二《最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景》贝尔曼先生在黑夜里悄悄地走出了家门。
他穿着一件补丁的外套,手里拿着调色盘和画笔。
来到墙边,他抬头看了看那几乎秃了的常春藤,深深地吸了一口气。
他先仔细观察了一下周围还残留的叶子的形状和颜色,然后开始动手画。
他的手不停地抖着,颜料都溅到了他的脸上。
但他不在乎,嘴里还念叨着:“一定要像,一定要救那孩子。
”他画得很吃力,额头上冒出了汗珠。
不知过了多久,一片充满希望的叶子出现在了墙上。
作文三《最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景》贝尔曼先生在寒风中出发了。
他弯着腰,一步一步艰难地走到墙边。
他的眼睛里满是坚定,他知道这片叶子对琼珊有多重要。
他把工具放在地上,搓了搓手,让自己暖和一点。
然后,他拿起画笔,开始认真地画起来。
他画得很慢,每一笔都很用心。
“这片叶子一定要美,一定要给琼珊力量。
”他一边画,一边想着。
当叶子画好的时候,贝尔曼先生露出了欣慰的笑容。
作文四《最后的常春藤叶续写贝尔曼画叶子的场景》贝尔曼先生在夜晚的冷风中走向那面墙。
他手里的灯笼摇晃着,照亮了他前行的路。
到了墙边,他放下灯笼,准备画画。
他的手冻得通红,但还是紧紧地握住画笔。
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最后一片常春藤叶
在华盛顿广场西面的一个小区内,苏伊和乔安娜的画室在一座粗矮的三层砖楼的顶楼。
她们一位缅因州,另一位加利福尼亚。
她们两个彼此发现在艺术方面兴趣相投,于是一起租下了这处画室。
这是五月份。
到了十一月间,被医生称为不速之客的肺炎捏手捏脚地来到了这块领地,用他那冰冷的手指这摸摸那碰碰。
更不幸的是,这位绅士的手碰到了本来就弱小的乔安娜小姐,她在冰冷的床头一动不动地躺着,透过荷兰式的小窗户看着对面另一幢砖房的墙。
我看她只有十分之一的希望。
一位医生说:这点希望要看她想不想活下去。
人么这种等着殡仪员来给她办后事的心理使得所有高明的医疗手段都无可奈何。
这位小姑娘认定自己的病好不了了,她是不是有什么心事啊?她--她希望有一天能去画那不勒斯海湾。
苏伊说。
作画?就没别的了吗?嗯,她不为别的,这是她最大的心愿。
那就是身体虚弱的缘故了。
医生说,我将尽我一起的努力,用一切奏效的科学手段。
但一旦病人开始盘算送葬队伍有多少良马车时,我就得减去百分之五十的把握了。
等医生走后,苏伊走进屋子看到乔安娜一动不动的躺在被窝里,脸对着窗户。
苏伊以为她睡着了,于是架起画板,开始为登在杂志上的小说画钢笔画插图。
乔安娜的眼睛睁得大大的。
她向窗外望着,嘴里在数着数--倒着数。
十二,她说,稍后又数到十一;然后是十,九然后连着数八七。
苏伊焦虑的看着窗外。
外面只能看到破烂不堪的墙壁。
一株盘根错节的枯萎的常春藤爬到半墙上。
秋季的寒风一把藤上的叶子吹落,只剩下几乎光秃秃的荆条。
怎么啦,亲爱的?苏伊问到。
六,乔安娜数到,现在他们掉的更快了。
三天差不多掉了一百,我头都数痛了。
现在省事了,只剩下五片了。
我是说,当叶子都掉光了,我也就死了。
医生没跟你说吗,我知道我还有三天。
哟,我还没听到过这么荒唐的话。
常春藤的枯叶与你的病有什么相关的?别这么傻了,医生告诉我,你很快就会好的。
不要骗我了,又掉了一片。
只剩下四片了。
我想在天黑以前看到最后一片叶子掉下来。
到时我也该去了。
乔安娜,亲爱的。
你能不能保证把眼睛闭上,等我把活干完再看窗外?我明天必须把这几幅画交上去,我需要光线,否则我就把窗帘拉上。
你画完马上告诉我一声,这是乔安娜闭上了眼睛,就像一具脸色苍白的雕像。
因为我想看到最后一片叶子落下。
我想今晚就摆脱一切。
我得叫贝尔曼上来做模特,我在画一位隐居的老矿工。
老贝尔曼是位画家,住在她们楼下的底层。
六十开外,一把卷曲的胡子垂下来。
贝尔曼在艺术上没取得成功。
他耍了四十年的画笔,却没能接近文艺女神缪斯一步。
几年来她什么也没画,只是偶尔为商业性宣传或广告画一些低略的东西。
他也为一些顾不起职业模特的年轻艺术家当模特,挣几个小钱。
苏伊在灯光暗淡的小窝里找到了浑身散发着杜松酒味的贝尔曼。
她对他说了乔安娜的古怪想法。
你说什么?他嚷道,这世界上竟会有这种傻子,因为叶子掉下来而想到死?我从没听说过。
唉,可怜的乔安娜小姐。
当他们上楼时,乔安娜已经睡着了。
他们担心的在那看着常春藤。
第二天早上,当苏伊醒来时,看到乔安娜在那里睁着大大的眼睛用磁带的目光盯着绿窗帘。
把窗帘拉上去,我要看。
她用命令的语气说。
可是,看哪!在经历了漫长黑夜的暴风雨吹打之后,竟然还有一片叶子贴在墙上。
这是常春藤上的最后一片叶子了。
这是最后一片了,我想它今晚一定会落下来,我也会同时死去。
又熬过一天,即使是借着黄昏的灯光也能看清那片叶子。
外面又刮起了北风,还夹杂着雨点。
天亮了,毫不心软的乔安娜又叫苏伊拉开窗帘。
苏伊,你可以给我端点汤来,再给我点掺图葡萄酒的牛奶,还有--噢,在我背后垫些枕头,我要看着你做饭。
想去死正是一种罪孽!一小时后,她又说:苏伊,等哪天我要去
画那不勒斯海湾。
下午医生来了,这会有百分之五十的希望能好转。
好好照顾的话会好得,真是不简单。
现在我得去看看楼下的另一位病人,也是肺炎。
哦,医生,能否知道他是谁?他叫贝尔曼,是位画家。
他年纪大了,病又来得及。
他没希望了。
我想有件事告诉你,亲爱的乔安娜,苏伊说到,贝尔曼先生因病死在医院里了。
他只病了两天。
后来发现一盏灯,那把梯子也被挪过。
突地衣服和鞋子都湿了。
还有一些散落的画笔,画板上调着绿和黄两种颜色,好了--看看窗外吧,天哪,看看墙上那片最后的藤叶吧。
它在风中从不飘动,你不觉得纳闷吗?啊,亲爱的,这可是贝尔曼最后的杰作--这是他在那最后一片叶子掉落的夜晚画的。