大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文朗讀
大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文朗讀
通過(guò)美文朗讀，不僅能提高我們的英語(yǔ)四級(jí)口語(yǔ)，還能加深我們學(xué)習(xí)到的知識(shí)，今天學(xué)習(xí)啦小編在這里為大家分享一些大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文朗讀，歡迎大家閱讀!
大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文篇一
父女的約定A promise kept
In a world where so many lives are being torn apart by divorces and heartaches, comes a story of a father and a daughter, and a promise that was kept.
My father was not a sentimental man. I don’t remember him ever “ooohhing” or “ahhing” over something I made as a child. Don’t get me wrong; I knew that my dad loved me, but getting all mushy-eyed was not his thing. I learned that he showed me love in other ways.
There was one particular time in my life when this became real to me...
I always believed that my parents had a good marriage, but just before I, the youngest of four children, turned sixteen, my belief was sorely tested. My father, who used to share in the chores around the house, gradually started becoming despondent. From the time he came home from his job at the factory to the time he went to bed, he hardly spoke a word to my mom or us kids. The strain on my mom and dad’s relationship was very evident. However, I was not prepared for the day that Mom sat my siblings and me down and told us that Dad had decided to leave. All that I could think of was that I was going to become a product of a divorced family. It was something I never thought possible, and it grieved me greatly. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t going to happen, and I went totally numb when I knew my dad was really leaving. The night before he left, I stayed up in my room for a long time. I prayed and I cried and I wrote a long letter to my dad. I told him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I told him that I was praying for him and wanted him to know that, no matter what, Jesus and I loved him. I told him that I would always and forever be his Krissie...his Noodles. As I folded my note, I stuck in a picture of me with a saying I had always heard: “Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy.”
Early the next morning, as my dad left our house, I sneaked out to the car and slipped my letter into one of his bags.
Two weeks went by with hardly a word from my father. Then, one afternoon, I came home from school to find my mom sitting at the dining room table waiting to talk to me. I could see in her eyes that she had been crying. She told me that Dad had been there and that they had talked for a long time. They decided that there were things that the both of them could and would change and that their marriage was worth saving. Mom then turned her focus to my eyes.
“Kristi, Dad told me that you wrote him a letter. Can I ask what you wrote to him?”
I found it hard to share with my mom what I had written from my heart to my dad. I mumbled a few words and shrugged.
Mom said, “Well, Dad said that when he read your letter, it made him cry. It meant a lot to him and I have hardly ever seen your dad cry. After he read your letter, he called to ask if he could come over to talk. Whatever you said really made a difference to your dad.”
A few days later my dad was back, this time to stay. We never talked about the letter, my dad and I. I guess I always figured that it was something that was a secret between us.
My parents went on to be married a total of thirty six years before my dad’s early death at the age of fifty three cut short their lives together. In the last sixteen years of my parent’s marriage, I and all those who knew my mom and dad witnessed one of the truly “great” marriages. Their love grew stronger every day, and my heart swelled with pride as I saw them grow closer together.
When Mom and Dad received the news from the doctor that his heart was deteriorating rapidly, they took it hand in hand, side by side, all the way.
After Dad’s death, we had the most unpleasant task of going through his things. I have never liked this task and opted to run errands so I did not have to be there while most of the things were divided and boxed up.
When I got back from my errand, my brother said, “Kristi, Mom said to give this to you. She said you would know what it meant.”
As I looked down into his outstretched hand, it was then that I knew the impact of my letter that day so long ago. In my brother’s hand was my picture that I had given my dad that day. My unsentimental dad, who never let his emotions get the best of him; my dad, who almost never outwardly showed his love for me, had kept the one thing that meant so much to him and me. I sat down and the tears began to flow, tears that I thought had dried up from the grief of his death but that had now found new life as I realized what I had meant to him. Mom told me that Dad kept both the picture and that letter his whole life. I have a box in my home that I call the “Dad box”. In it are so many things that remind me of my dad. I pull that picture out every once in a while and remember. I remember a promise that was made many years ago between a young man and his bride on their wedding day, and I remember the unspoken promise that was made between a father and his daughter.
大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文篇二
蘇珊的“魔毯”
By Karen Taylor
Wrinkles of confusion rippled across Holly's forehead as she unwrapped the gift from her best friend, Susan.
"I...I thought you could use it for something." Susan's stammered explanation did nothing to help us understand why a twelve-by-eighteen-inch dark blue carpet remnant was being presented as a birthday gift.
My heart went out to our daughter. Starting out at a new school during her freshman year had been a difficult adjustment. Until she met Susan, Holly had experienced little success making new friends.
The murmured "thanks" was barely audible as Holly tried valiantly not to allow her disappointment to show. She laid the piece of carpet on the kitchen counter, and the two girls headed outside to play with the family dogs.
The extent of Holly's disappointment over the incident didn't become evident until the following evening when she came downstairs to say good night. "Well, I guess we know how much my best friend thinks of me, huh, Mom?" Her attempt at a breezy tone failed miserably.
Still bewildered by the situation myself, I didn't have much to offer in the way of enlightenment. "I'm so sorry, honey," was all I could manage to say.
The next morning, I carried a bulging kitchen sack outside. My heart wrenched as I lifted the lid of the trash can and saw Susan's carpet lying among the other discarded items. Hesitating only a moment, I reached in and plucked it from amid the debris. After giving it a light brushing, I brought it into the house and tucked it away in the hall closet. Overshadowed by the business of daily living, the carpet was soon forgotten.
Prior to Holly's birthday, Susan had been a regular visitor in our home. On several occasions, she rode the bus home with Holly and was one of the few friends ever permitted to stay over on a school night. The girls did their homework together and went to bed at a reasonable hour.
Now as I slid the evening meal into the oven, I realized it had been nearly three weeks since we'd even heard mention of Susan's name. I missed her warm smile and eager-to-please ways.
A rustle at the front door told me Holly had arrived home from school. "Susan invited me to come over to her house after school tomorrow," she announced as she plunked her books down on the kitchen table. Although her voice carried a so-what attitude, I sensed she was pleased by the invitation.
In spite of the number of times Susan had visited with us, our invitations were never returned. "She wants you to come, too, so you can meet her foster mom." The words "foster mom" dangled in the air like a spent birthday balloon. Susan never talked about her home life, and we didn't find it necessary to pry.
Arrangements were made, and the girls rode home together on the school bus the following day. As I negotiated the winding country road that led to her house, Susan babbled nervously about her foster mom and the seventeen cats she had taken in and cared for with Susan's help. Several of these foster kitties scattered as we pulled into the rutted gravel driveway.
A tall angular woman wearing a shapeless tan sweater over navy blue pants stood in the screened doorway to greet us as we approached the small farmhouse. "Excuse the mess," she apologized, holding the door open while we threaded our way through stuff that seemed to be everywhere. Knowing my reputation for neatness, Holly's eyes darted in my direction to quickly assess my reaction to such chaos. Susan's foster mom waved a hand toward the kitchen counter, which was barely visible through the assortment of cat medicines. "This is my medicine cabinet," she explained.
Susan ushered us through the house. It seemed to be alive with four-legged fur balls roaming underfoot and sprawling across the backs of the dingy sofa and chairs. She proudly showed us her room, which was sparsely but neatly decorated with used furnishings. A tarnished picture frame sitting on a crate beside the bed contained pictures of Susan's parents and siblings from whom, we later learned, she had long since been separated.
As the girls flopped down on the grayish-white bedspread to compare notes about the school day, I followed Susan's foster mom - who introduced herself as Glenda - into the kitchen. After clearing a small area, Glenda placed a couple of mugs on the table. Her hand trembled slightly as she poured us each a cup of steaming black coffee. The tightness of her features began to relax as we sipped our coffee and chatted about her cats.
A warm glow shone in her eyes as she revealed to me her fondness for Susan. But her expression turned pensive when she referred briefly to the girl's past. In a short time, I came to respect this generous-hearted woman who had opened her home to a young girl and attempted to make a difference in her life.
As daylight began to fade, we offered our thanks for the visit and said good-bye.
Holly sat quietly in the car on the way home. Stealing a glance, I noticed her back was ramrod-straight. Her head and shoulders were thrust forward as if willing the car to move faster. No sooner had we come to a stop in the driveway than she flung open the car door and walked purposefully toward the side gate. Curious, I shifted into park and followed. A lump caught in my throat as I observed my daughter standing next to the trash can peering inside. Her shoulders slumped as she replaced the lid and shuffled into the house.
After pulling the car into the garage, I went inside and headed for the hall closet. By this time, Holly was sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window.
"Is this what you were looking for?" I placed the piece of carpet on the table in front of her.
"Thanks, Mom." A tear or two slipped from her eye and splashed onto the dark blue remnant that, as if by magic, had become the most precious birthday present in the whole world.
大學(xué)英語(yǔ)四級(jí)美文篇三
愛(ài)的傷疤The scars of love
Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.
幾年前的一個(gè)炎炎夏日，在美國(guó)佛羅里達(dá)州南部，有個(gè)小男孩為貪圖涼快，決定去自家房子后面一個(gè)形成已久的深水潭中游泳。
In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His mother - in the house was looking out the window - saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could.
因?yàn)槠炔患按叵胪度氲角鍥龅乃?，他飛快地從后門跑了出去，邊跑邊脫掉鞋子、襪子和襯衣，把它們隨手拋在了身后。他一頭扎進(jìn)了水里，絲毫沒(méi)有意識(shí)到自己游往潭中心的同時(shí)，一只美洲鱷也正在朝岸邊游來(lái)。小男孩的母親當(dāng)時(shí)在屋子里透過(guò)窗子向外看著，發(fā)現(xiàn)那只美洲鱷正向她的孩子步步逼近。她極度驚恐起來(lái)，一邊迅速奔向水潭，一邊聲嘶力竭地朝自己的孩子呼喊著。
Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a return to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him.
聽(tīng)到她的呼喊，小男孩才猛然意識(shí)到了危險(xiǎn)，立即掉頭向岸邊的母親游去?？蛇@時(shí)已經(jīng)無(wú)濟(jì)于事。他的手勉強(qiáng)剛夠到他的母親，鱷魚也已經(jīng)接觸到了他。
From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. Then began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.
母親在岸上拼命地拽緊兒子的手臂，而此時(shí)美洲鱷也死死地咬住孩子的腿不放。為了爭(zhēng)奪小男孩，母親和鱷魚之間儼然展開(kāi)了一場(chǎng)讓人難以置信的拔河較量。美洲鱷的力氣顯然要比母親強(qiáng)大得多，但是母親挽救兒子的堅(jiān)定信念讓她無(wú)論如何也絕不放手。就在這萬(wàn)分危急的關(guān)頭，一位農(nóng)夫恰巧駕車經(jīng)過(guò)，一聽(tīng)到孩子母親的尖叫便飛速?gòu)目ㄜ嚿咸拢闇?zhǔn)鱷魚并開(kāi)槍將其射殺。
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal and, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.
值得慶幸的是，經(jīng)過(guò)在醫(yī)院數(shù)周的搶救治療，小男孩居然存活了下來(lái)。鱷魚兇殘的襲擊在他的腿上刻下了觸目驚心的傷痕。不僅如此，他的雙臂上也留下了深深的抓痕，那是在生死關(guān)頭母親為了牢牢抓住摯愛(ài)的兒子，以至于手指甲都掐入了兒子的肉中所留下的。
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter. But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom wouldn't let go.
事后，這位死里逃生的小男孩接受了一位報(bào)社記者的采訪。當(dāng)記者問(wèn)他是否愿意讓大家看看他身上的傷疤時(shí)，小男孩挽起了自己的褲腿，腿上深深的疤痕暴露無(wú)遺。緊接著，他滿臉自豪地告訴記者，“大家還是看看我的手臂吧，我的手臂上也有好多傷疤呢。這是媽媽不放開(kāi)我，在救我的時(shí)候留下的。”
You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, or anything quite so dramatic. But, the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret.
看了這個(gè)小男孩的故事后，人們都能感同身受。其實(shí)我們每個(gè)人身上都有傷疤。只不過(guò)并不是被鱷魚咬的，或任何如此戲劇性事件所造成，而是過(guò)往的痛苦經(jīng)歷所留下的。那些傷疤是如此難看，讓人深感懊悔。
But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you.
但是，我的朋友，你可曾想過(guò)有些傷口是一些不想放棄你的人造成的。在你掙扎的過(guò)程中，那些愛(ài)你的人為了拉住你，才在你身上留下了這些傷疤。
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