有關初中生英語美文摘抄欣賞

　　開展美文誦讀活動,通過相對應的美文誦讀,可以激發學生的學習興趣,可以促進學生的寫作,可以讓學生通曉禮儀,還可以促進學生語文素養的培養,推動英語教學的發展。本文是有關初中生英語美文，希望對大家有幫助!

　　有關初中生英語美文：Kiss in a Box

　　The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated***激怒*** when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.

　　Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found the box was empty. He yelled at her, "Don't you know that when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something inside it?"

　　The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Oh, Daddy, it is not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you, Daddy." The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.

　　It is told that the man kept that gold box by his bed for years and whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary***虛構的*** kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

　　In a very real sense, each of us as humans have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, friends, family. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

　　有關初中生英語美文：愛如鮮花盛開

　　I was nine when my father first sent me flowers. I had been taking tapdancing***踢踏舞*** lessons for six months, and the school was giving its yearly recital. As an excited member of the beginners' chorus line, I was aware of my lowly status.

　　So it was a surprise to have my name called out at the end of the show along with the lead dancers and to find my arms full of long-stemmed red roses. I can still feel myself standing on that stage, blushing furiously and gazing over the footlights to see my father's grin as he applauded loudly.

　　Those roses were the first in a series of large bouquets***花束，宴會*** that accompanied all the milestones in my life. They brought a sense of embarrassment. I enjoyed them, but was flustered by the extravagance.

　　Not my father. He did everything in a big way. If you sent him to the bakery for a cake, he came back with three. Once, when Mother told him I needed a new party dress, he brought home a dozen.

　　His behavior often left us without funds for other more important things. After the dress incident, there was no money for the winter coat I really needed--or the new ice skates I wanted.

　　Sometimes I would be angry with him, but not for long. Inevitably he would buy me something to make up with me. The gift was so apparently an offering of love he could not verbalize that I would throw my arms around him and kiss him--an act that undoubtedly perpetuated***保持*** his behavior.

　　Then came my 16th birthday. It was not a happy occasion. I was fat and had no boyfriend. And my well-meaning parents furthered my misery by giving me a party. As I entered the dining room, there on the table next to my cake was a huge bouquet of flowers, bigger than any before.

　　I wanted to hide. Now everyone would think my father had sent flowers because I had no boyfriend to do it. Sweet 16, and I felt like crying. I probably would have, but my best friend, Phyllis, whispered, "Boy, you're lucky to have a father like that.

　　As the years passed, other occasions--birthdays, recitals***朗誦***, awards, graduations--were marked with Dad's flowers. My emotions continued to seesaw between pleasure and embarrassment.

　　When I graduated from college, though, my days of ambivalence***矛盾情緒*** were over. I was embarking on a new career and was engaged to be married. Dad's flowers symbolized his pride, and my triumph. They evoked only great pleasure.

　　Now there were bright-orange mums for Thanksgiving and a huge pink poinsettia at Christmas. White lilies at Easter, and velvety red roses for birthdays. Seasonal flowers in mixed bouquets celebrated the births of my children and the move to our first house.

　　As my fortunes grew, my father's waned, but his gifts of flowers continued until he died of a heart attack a few months before his 70th birthday. Without embarrassment, I covered his coffin with the largest, reddest roses I could find.

　　Often in the dozen years since, I felt an urge to go out and buy a big bouquet to fill the living room, but I never did. Often in the dozen years since, I felt an urge to go out and buy a big bouquet to fill the living room, but I never did. I knew it would not be the same.

　　Then one birthday, the doorbell rang. I was feeling blue because I was alone. My husband was playing golf, and my two daughters were away. My 13-year-old son, Matt, had run out earlier with a "see you later," never mentioning my birthday. So I was surprised to see his large frame at the door. "Forgot my key," he said, shrugging. "Forgot your birthday too. Well, I hope you like flowers, Mum." He pulled a bunch of daisies from behind his back.

　　"Oh, Matt," I cried, hugging him hard. "I love flowers!"