有关湖的美文欣赏

发布时间：2019-02-26 12:15:21 来源：文档文库

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有关湖的美文欣赏

【篇一：有关湖的美文欣赏】

世界上最优美的散文：冬之湖：哦，我们正带着钦羡的目光看着这个神奇的大干世界，并试图将内心的感受表达出来。黑夜，无疑是伟大的造物主创作出的一部分；可是，当白昼来临的时候——从地球到苍穹——它会向我们展示其伟大的杰作。冬之湖 [美]梭罗

哦，我们正带着钦羡的目光看着这个神奇的大干世界，并试图将内心的感受表达出来。黑夜，无疑是伟大的造物主创作出的一部分；可是，当白昼来临的时候——从地球到苍穹——它会向我们展示其伟大的杰作。

一个静谧的冬夜过去了。一觉醒来，仿佛觉得昨夜有许多问题围绕着我在梦里，我努力地寻找答案，却一无所获。此时，黎明已来临，万物彰显大自然透过我大大的窗子向屋里张望着。她脸色安详，满心欣慰，她并没有向我提问。我一觉醒来便是白天，大自然就在眼前，问题也自然有了答案。土地被大雪覆盖，小松树点缀其间。我的小木屋所在的山坡好像在说：“向前看吧!”大自然并没有发问，发问的是我们人类，她早就有了主意。

每到冬天，曾经波光潋滟的湖面就会结上厚厚的一层冰，冰层约有一英尺或一英尺半厚。我站在冰雪覆盖的平原上，就像置身于群山之中的牧场。我先劈开了一英尺厚的雪，再劈于r一英尺厚的冰，这时脚下便打开了一扇窗。我俯身喝湖水时，看见水中鱼儿的客厅静悄悄的，那里透进一道柔和的光，细沙铺着的湖底与夏日里的没有什么区别。在这罩，无波的湖而澄清明净。天空既在我们的头上，也在我们的脚下。

天刚亮的时候，人们踏着松脆的积雪，带着钓鱼竿和简单的午餐，穿过雪地来到湖边，向湖中放下细细的鱼线，等待着梭子鱼和鲈鱼的光临。中午时，他们坐在岸边早已干枯的橡树叶上吃着午餐。城里人精于虚伪做作，而他们却擅长自然常识。他们从不参照书本，所知所言远远少于他们的所作所为。

有一个人很有意思，他用较大的鲈鱼做诱饵，来钓梭子鱼。如果你去看看他的鱼桶，就会感到非常惊讶，你就像是看到了夏天的池塘，他似乎把夏天锁在了自己的家里，或者可以说，他知道夏天躲在哪里。也许有人会问，深冬时节，他怎么可能钓到这么多鱼?噢，是这样的，自从大地封冻，他就开始在腐烂的树木中挖小虫，作为深冬垂钓的诱饵，所以他才能钓到这么多的鱼。他的生活本身就是在钻研大自然，也许他所做的比自然学家的研究还要深入；或者，他自身就是自然学家研究的对象。这样的人才有权利钓鱼，我喜欢看到他身上所体现的大自然的气息。当我在薄雾蒙蒙的天气里，沿着湖边散步时。会看到淳朴的渔夫采用最原始的生活方式，这使我觉得十分有趣。鲈鱼吞食了小虫，梭鱼吃掉了鲈鱼，而梭鱼却最终成了捕鱼者的猎物……

哦，瓦尔登湖的梭子鱼!每当我看捕鱼者把它们放在冰面上．或在捕鱼人在冰面上钻出的小洞下游动时，我总是对它们的稀世之美赞叹不已，它们似乎就是神话中的鱼，你无法在街上，或是市场上找到这种鱼，甚至树林里也看不到，就像我们康科德人的生活中看不到阿拉伯半岛一样。它们有一种耀眼的、超凡脱俗的美。它们不像松树那样苍翠，不像石头那样纯白，也不像天空那样湛蓝；但在我眼中，它们有着更为珍贵的色彩，如花儿一样绚丽，像宝石一样华美，仿佛它们是珍珠，是瓦尔登湖里的水晶。我从未在市场上见过这种鱼，如果有的话，它一定会成为众人瞩目的焦点。

the pond in winter

0，our eyes contemplate with admiration and transmit to the soul the wonderful and varied spectacle of this universe．the night veils without doubt a part of this slorious creation；but day comes to reveal to us this great work，which extends from earth even into the plains of the ether．

after a still winter night i awoke with the impression that some question had been put to me，which i had been endeavoring in vain to answer in my sleep．but there was dawning nature，in whom all creatures live，looking in at my broad windows with serene and satisfied face．and no question on her lips．i awoke to an answered question，to nature and daylight．the snow lying deep on the earth dotted with young pines，and the very slope of the hill on which my house is placed，seemed to say，forward! nature puts no question and answers none which we mortals ask．she has long ago taken her resolution ．

every winter the liquid and trembling surface of the pond becomes solid to the depth of a foot and a half．standing on the snow—covered plain，as if in a pasture amid the hills，i cut my way first through a foot of snow，and then a foot of ice，and open a window under my feet，where，kneeling to think，i look down into the quiet parlor of the fishes，pervaded9 by a softened light，with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer；there a perennial waveless serenity reigns the surface of pond．

heaven is under our feet is well as over our heads．

early in the morning，while all things are crisp”with frost，men come with fishing reels and slender”lunch，and let down their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerell3 and perchl4．they sit and eat their luncheon on the dry oak leaves on the shore，as wise in natural lore as the citizen is in artificial．they never consulted with books，and know and can tell much less than they have done．

ah，the pickerel of walden! when i see them lying on the ice．or in the well which the fisherman cuts in the ice，making a little hole to admit the water．i am a1．ways surprised by their rare beauty，as if they were fabulous”fishes，they are so foreign to the streets，even to the woods，foreign as arabia to our concord life．they possess a quite dazzlin918 and transcendent”beauty．they are not green like the pines．nor gray like the stones，nor blue like the sky；but they have，to my eyes，if possible，yet rarer colors，like flowers and precious stones，as if they were the pearls，crystals of the walden water．i never chanced to see its kind in any market；it would be the cynosure“of all eyes there