英語春天的作文【集合】
在日常學習、工作抑或是生活中，許多人都寫過作文吧，作文是從內(nèi)部言語向外部言語的過渡，即從經(jīng)過壓縮的簡要的、自己能明白的語言，向開展的、具有規(guī)范語法結(jié)構(gòu)的、能為他人所理解的外部語言形式的轉(zhuǎn)化。那么你知道一篇好的作文該怎么寫嗎？以下是小編整理的英語春天的作文4篇，僅供參考，大家一起來看看吧。
英語春天的作文 篇1
Bitterly cold winter may once come, but now it has gone.
As my bike has been stolen, I have to run from one teaching building to another every day.
The bell declares the end of the last lesson and the beginning of a new journey. Tired as I am, at the sight of the bench, I go straight to it. As soon as I get seated, a world of fresh green immediately catches my eyes. Grass sprouts burst through the soil right in the place of the withered grass and turn the dull grey into fresh green. As I look up, I find those tall trees have also put on new clothes. Green, here and there, everywhere!Spring has come, I realize suddenly.
A breeze stirs, sending over breaths of fragrance. I trace it,surprised to find several lovely small white flowers dotted on a tree. And there are even some singing birds! I am so delighted with all these tiny lives that my fatigue vanishes all of a sudden.
The sky shows its purest blue. The sun generously gives out its heat and light, shining evenly on the grass, on the trees,on the roofs of houses, on the people passing by, also on me,quietly and tenderly. There come a couple of young people,strolling leisurely. A group of students are sitting in a circle on the grass and discussing something heatedly. Some are reading English but in low voices afraid of breaking the peace of the campus. Others are lying on the lawn, having a nap, or just enjoying the sunshine as I am.
I feel I am free, free of thinking anything. In such a pleasing environment, doing anything is a great pleasure. I am fully indulged in this tranquility. If only time could stop!
I turn on the radio to enjoy some light music. Much to my disappointment, however, almost all the programs are about the war in Iraq. It is hard to believe that under the same blue sky,some people are suffering from bleeding and death of war while others are enjoying a happy life.
The sun is hidden by the clouds. After a few seconds, it shines brightly again.
Peaceful life seems to have gone, but it will come back one day, I am sure.
寒冷的冬天也許曾經(jīng)來過，但現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)過去了。
由于我的自行車被偷了，我不得不每天從一幢教學樓跑到另一棟教學樓。
鐘聲宣告了最后一課的結(jié)束和新旅程的開始。我累了，一看到凳子，我就直奔那里去。我一坐下，一片清新的綠色立刻吸引了我的目光。草芽在枯萎的草地上迅速地穿過土壤，把灰暗的'灰色變成了新鮮的綠色。我抬頭一看，發(fā)現(xiàn)那些高大的樹也穿上了新衣服。到處都是綠色，到處都是！春天來了，我突然意識到。
微風過處，送來縷縷清香。我跟蹤它，驚訝地發(fā)現(xiàn)樹上點綴著幾朵可愛的白色小花。甚至還有一些唱歌的鳥！我對這些微小的生命感到非常高興，我的疲勞突然消失了。
天空顯示出最純凈的藍色。太陽慷慨地散發(fā)出它的熱和光，均勻地照射在草地上，樹上，屋頂上，還有路過的人們身上，靜靜地，溫柔地照耀著我。來了幾個年輕人，悠閑地散步。一群學生圍坐成一圈在草地上討論熱烈。有些人在讀英語，但聲音很低，害怕打破校園的寧靜。其他人躺在草地上小睡一會兒，或者像我一樣享受陽光。
我覺得我是自由的，自由思考什么。在這樣一個令人愉快的環(huán)境中，做任何事都是一種極大的樂趣。我完全沉浸在這種寧靜中。如果時間能停止！
我打開收音機，享受一些輕松的音樂。然而，令我失望的是，幾乎所有的節(jié)目都是關(guān)于伊拉克戰(zhàn)爭的。很難相信在同一片藍天下，有人在流血和戰(zhàn)爭中死去，而另一些人卻過著幸福的生活。
太陽被云遮住了。幾秒鐘后，它再次照耀。
平靜的生活似乎已經(jīng)過去了，但總有一天它會回來的，我敢肯定。
英語春天的作文 篇2
Winter was gone,spring comes.I love spring best,because it's very beautiful.In spring,the weather is aways sunny and rainy,it's not cold and not hot,it's warmer and warmer.The flowers begin to open and the trees begin to turn green.The birds are singing in the sky,they are happy.The animals will go out to play.Many people like to go out and enjoy the sunshine.I like wearing my sweater and jeans, I like to fly kites,plant trees and see the beautiful flowers. Spring is colorful,I think it's a wonderful season. What's your favourite season?Please tell me.
翻譯
冬天過去了，春天來了。我最喜歡春天，因為它很美麗。春天，天氣是晴天和雨天，不冷也不熱，它的溫暖，花兒開始開放，樹開始變綠了，鳥兒在天空中歌唱，他們是快樂的。動物們就出去玩。很多人喜歡去享受陽光。我喜歡穿毛衣和牛仔褲，我喜歡放風箏，種樹，看到美麗的花朵。春天是多姿多彩的`，我認為這是一個美妙的季節(jié)。你最喜歡的季節(jié)是什么?請告訴我。
英語春天的作文 篇3
Spring has come, the swallows return from the south, it is a beautiful black feathers, a pair of beautiful wings of light, in the sky and pecked the branches for the home to build their nests. I seem to hear it say: “ I can move the new home again. I'm so happy! ”
Willow spit out the green shoots I came to a small river, saw the embankment, full of vigor and vitality, in the summer, people can rely on the shade in its body, it is so happy! I heard the buzz buzz “ ” singing cheerful songs, I asked. “ stream, brook, where are you going? ” Brooks said: “ I will flow into the river, on the road I can moisten the fields, wet land … I can make a little contribution for people &rdquo I am very happy;
I came to a garden of flowers, a riot of colour, powder like Xia, white as snow, red Sihuo, really beautiful ah! People praise the beautiful and bright flowers. The flower listened to the words of praise and was very happy.
I come to the fields, the sky began to rain misty spring rain, the wet grass, make the grass more green, wet earth, making the earth more soft … the farmer uncle smiled a sweet smile, they planted a pumpkin, corn … … they also sow hope, hope for the coming year to have a good harvest in autumn. They seem to see the eggplant on the purple robe, the winter gourd on the white yarn, the sorghum raised the torch … … they have a happy smile.
I came to the Daning river again. I saw my kids running on the beach. They were watching colorful smiles. They smiled happily.
What a beautiful spring is, how sweet, and how gorgeous! I like spring because she makes everything so happy in the world!
英語春天的作文 篇4
A Promise of Spring
Early in the spring, about a month before my grandpa's stroke, I began walking for an hour every afternoon. Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa. At eighty-six, Grandpa was still quite a gardener, so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.
I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was eager to get Grandpa's advice. I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted — a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.
It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden blaze of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side. The whole family rallied to Grandpa. We all spent many hours by his side. Some days his eyes were eloquent — laughing at our reported mishaps, listening alertly, revealing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself. There were days, too, when he slept most of the time, overcome with the weight of his approaching death.
As the months passed, I watched the growing earth with Grandpa's eyes. Each time I was with him, I gave him a garden report. He listened, gripping my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had. But he could not answer my questions. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade, and die before I knew their names.
Grandpa's illness held him through the spring and on, week by week, through summer. I began spending hours at the local nursery, studying and choosing seeds and plants. It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa's garden and give them humble starts in my own garden. I discovered Sweet William, which I had admired for years in Grandpa's garden without knowing its name. And I planted it in his honor.
As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa's side, some quiet truths emerged. I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that were always bloom; he kept a full bed of roses in his garden. But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights. Not every nook of his garden was constantly in bloom. There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.
I came to see, too, that Grandpa's garden mirrored his life. He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest. But along with his hard work, Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season, each change. We often teased him about his life history. He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work, and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he'd ever taken.
In July, Grandpa worsened. One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside. He was glad to have me there, and reached out his hand to pull me close.
I told Grandpa what I had learned — that few flowers last from April to November. Some of the most beautiful bloom for only a month at most. To really enjoy a garden, you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden, each in its own season.
His eyes listened to every word. Then, another discovery: "If I want a garden like yours, Grandpa, I'm going to have to work." His grin laughed at me, and his eyes teased me.
"Grandpa, in your life right now the chrysanthemums are in bloom. Chrysanthemums and roses." Tears clouded both our eyes. Neither of us feared this last flower of fall, but the wait for spring seems longest in November. We knew how much we would miss each other.
Sitting there, I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony inside both of us. He had never spoken of his testimony to me, but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew. I knew he knew.
"Grandpa," I began — and his grip tightened as if he knew what I was going to say — "I want you to know that I have a testimony. I know the Savior lives. I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I love the Restoration and joy in it." The steadiness in Grandpa's eyes told how much he felt it too. "I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true, Grandpa. Every part of me bears this witness."
"Grandpa," I added quietly, "I know our Father in Heaven loves you." Unbidden, unexpected, the Spirit bore comforting, poignant testimony to me of our Father's love for my humble, quiet Grandpa.
A tangible sense of Heavenly Father's compassionate awareness of Grandpa's suffering surrounded us and held us. It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me — only tears of gratitude and humility, tears of comfort.
Grandpa and I wept together.
It was the end of August when Grandpa died, the end of summer. As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa's funeral, I slipped away to Grandpa's garden and walked with my memories of columbine and Sweet William. Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now, and some baby's breath in another corner.
On impulse, I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby's breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral. When they saw it, friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa's flowers there. We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.
The October after Grandpa's death, I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs, snowdrops, crocuses, and bluebells. Each bulb was a comfort to me, a love sent to Grandpa, a promise of spring.
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