童话故事英语
无论是在学校还是在社会中，大家都经常接触到童话吧，童话对儿童来说具有重要的发展价值，对教师和父母来说具有重要的教育学意义。被广泛传播的童话故事都有哪些呢?以下是小编精心整理的童话故事英语，仅供参考，希望能够帮助到大家。
童话故事英语1
故事发生在一个小村庄里，有一个名叫大卫的小男孩，他有着一颗天使般纯净的心灵。每天，大卫都会在父母的指导下学习和工作，过着平凡而幸福的生活。
然而，一天，大卫在森林里迷失了方向。他不知道该往哪个方向走，只能无助地徘徊。就在这时，一只会说话的小鸟出现了，告诉大卫一个神奇的秘密：“在一块巨石上，你会找到一把神奇的钥匙，只要用它打开心灵之门，你就能找到回家的路。”
大卫听从小鸟的指引，找到了那块巨石。他握住钥匙，紧闭双眼，心中默念：“请带我回家。”突然，他进入了一个神秘的世界。在那里，大卫遇到了一位善良的巫婆，她告诉他：“你需要完成三个任务，才能回到家。”
大卫勇敢地接受了挑战。他先去了恐龙时代，帮助一只受伤的恐龙找到草药救治伤口。接着，大卫来到未来世界，修好了一个坏掉的时间机器。最后，他来到了一个被黑暗笼罩的'城市，协助人们重建被摧毁的家园。
完成了任务后，大卫回到了村庄。他的父母对他充满骄傲和赞赏，大卫也从神奇之旅中学会了许多宝贵的道理。他明白了勇敢与善良的力量，以及只要心存希望，永远都不会迷失。
童话故事英语2
THE DROP OF WATER一滴水
OF course you know what is meant by a magnifying glass-one of those round spectacle-glassesthat make everything look a hundred times bigger than it is? When any one takes one of theseand holds it to his eye, and looks at a drop of water from the pond yonder, he sees above athousand wonderful creatures that are otherwise never discerned in the water. But there theyare, and it is no delusion. It almost looks like a great plateful of spiders jumping about in acrowd. And how fierce they are! They tear off each other's legs. and arms and bodies, beforeand behind;
and yet they are merry and joyful in their way. Now, there once was an old manwhom all the people called Kribble-Krabble, for that was his name. He always wanted the bestof everything, and when he could not manage it otherwise, he did it by magic. There he sat oneday, and held his magnifying-glass to his eye, and looked at a drop of water that had beentaken out of a puddle by the ditch.
But what a kribbling and krabbling was there! All thethousands of little creatures hopped and sprang and tugged at one another, and ate each otherup. "That is horrible!" said old Kribble-Krabble. "Can one not persuade them to live in peaceand quietness, so that each one may mind his own business?" And he thought it over and over,but it would not do, and so he had recourse to magic. "I must give them color, that they maybe seen more plainly," said he; and he poured something like a little drop of red wine into thedrop of water, but it was witches' blood from the lobes of the ear, the finest kind, at ninepencea drop.
And now the wonderful little creatures were pink all over. It looked like a whole town ofnaked wild men. "What have you there?" asked another old magician, who had no name- andthat was the best thing about him. "Yes, if you can guess what it is," said Kribble-Krabble, "I'llmake you a present of it." But it is not so easy to find out if one does not know. And themagician who had no name looked through the magnifying-glass. It looked really like a greattown reflected there, in which all the people were running about without clothes. It was terrible!But it was still more terrible to see how one beat and pushed the other, and bit and hacked,and tugged and mauled him.
Those at the top were being pulled down, and those at the bottomwere struggling upwards. "Look! look! his leg is longer than mine! Bah! Away with it! There isone who has a little bruise. It hurts him, but it shall hurt him still more." And they hacked awayat him, and they pulled at him, and ate him up, because of the little bruise. And there was onesitting as still as any little maiden, and wishing only for peace and quietness. But now she hadto come out, and they tugged at her, and pulled her about, and ate her up. "That's funny!" saidthe magician. "Yes; but what do you think it is?" said Kribble-Krabble. "Can you find that out?" "Why, one can see that easily enough," said the other. "That's Paris, or some other great city,for they're all alike. It's a great city!" "It's a drop of puddle water!" said Kribble-Krabble.
童话故事英语3
The Emperor’S New Clothes 皇帝的新装
Once upon a time there lived a vain Emperor whose only worry in life was to dress in elegant clothes. He changed clothes almost every hour and loved to show them off to his people.
Word of the Emperor's refined habits spread over his kingdom and beyond. Two scoundrels who had heard of the Emperor's vanity decided to take advantage of it. They introduced themselves at the gates of the palace with a scheme in mind.
"We are two very good tailors and after many years of research we have invented an extraordinary method to weave a cloth so light and fine that it looks invisible. As a matter of fact it is invisible to anyone who is too stupid and incompetent to appreciate its quality."
The chief of the guards heard the scoundrel's strange story and sent for the court chamberlain. The chamberlain notified the prime minister, who ran to the Emperor and disclosed the incredible news. The Emperor's curiosity got the better of him and he decided to see the two scoundrels.
"Besides being invisible, your Highness, this cloth will be woven in colors and patterns created especially for you." The emperor gave the two men a bag of gold coins in exchange for their promise to begin working on the fabric immediately.
"Just tell us what you need to get started and we'll give it to you." The two scoundrels asked for a loom, silk, gold thread and then pretended to begin working. The Emperor thought he had spent his money quite well: in addition to getting a new extraordinary suit, he would discover which of his subjects were ignorant and incompetent. A few days later, he called the old and wise prime minister, who was considered by everyone as a man with common sense.
"Go and see how the work is proceeding," the Emperor told him, "and come back to let me know."
The prime minister was welcomed by the two scoundrels.
"We're almost finished, but we need a lot more gold thread. Here, Excellency! Admire the colors, feel the softness!" The old man bent over the loom and tried to see the fabric that was not there. He felt cold sweat on his forehead.
"I can't see anything," he thought. "If I see nothing, that means I'm stupid! Or, worse, incompetent!" If the prime minister admitted that he didn't see anything, he would be discharged from his office.
"What a marvelous fabric, he said then. "I'll certainly tell the Emperor." The two scoundrels rubbed their hands gleefully. They had almost made it. More thread was requested to finish the work.
Finally, the Emperor received the announcement that the two tailors had come to take all the measurements needed to sew his new suit.
"Come in," the Emperor ordered. Even as they bowed, the two scoundrels pretended to be holding large roll of fabric.
"Here it is your Highness, the result of our labour," the scoundrels said. "We have worked night and day but, at last, the most beautiful fabric in the world is ready for you. Look at the colors and feel how fine it is." Of course the Emperor did not see any colors and could not feel any cloth between his fingers. He panicked and felt like fainting. But luckily the throne was right behind him and he sat down. But when he realized that no one could know that he did not see the fabric, he felt better. Nobody could find out he was stupid and incompetent. And the Emperor didn't know that everybody else around him thought and did the very same thing.
The farce continued as the two scoundrels had foreseen it. Once they had taken the measurements, the two began cutting the air with scissors while sewing with their needles an invisible cloth.
"Your Highness, you'll have to take off your clothes to try on your new ones." The two scoundrels draped the new clothes on him and then held up a mirror. The Emperor was embarrassed but since none of his bystanders were, he felt relieved.
"Yes, this is a beautiful suit and it looks very good on me," the Emperor said trying to look comfortable. "You've done a fine job."
"Your Majesty," the prime minister said, "we have a request for you. The people have found out about this extraordinary fabric and they are anxious to see you in your new suit." The Emperor was doubtful showing himself naked to the people, but then he abandoned his fears. After all, no one would know about it except the ignorant and the incompetent.
"All right," he said. "I will grant the people this privilege." He summoned his carriage and the ceremonial parade was formed. A group of dignitaries walked at the very front of the procession and anxiously scrutinized the faces of the people in the street. All the people had gathered in the main square, pushing and shoving to get a better look. An applause welcomed the regal procession. Everyone wanted to know how stupid or incompetent his or her neighbor was but, as the Emperor passed, a strange murmur rose from the crowd.
Everyone said, loud enough for the others to hear: "Look at the Emperor's new clothes. They're beautiful!"
"What a marvellous train!"
"And the colors! The colors of that beautiful fabric! I have never seen anything like it in my life!" They all tried to conceal their disappointment at not being able to see the clothes, and since nobody was willing to admit his own stupidity and incompetence, they all behaved as the two scoundrels had predicted.
A child, however, who had no important job and could only see things as his eyes showed them to him, went up to the carriage.
"The Emperor is naked," he said.
"Fool!" his father reprimanded, running after him. "Don't talk nonsense!" He grabbed his child and took him away. But the boy's remark, which had been heard by the bystanders, was repeated over and over again until everyone cried:
"The boy is right! The Emperor is naked! It's true!"
The Emperor realized that the people were right but could not admit to that. He though it better to continue the procession under the illusion that anyone who couldn't see his clothes was either stupid or incompetent. And he stood stiffly on his carriage, while behind him a page held his imaginary mantle.
童话故事英语4
DELAYING IS NOT FORGETTING隐存着并不就是被忘却
THERE was an old mansion surrounded by a marshy ditch with a drawbridge which was butseldom let down:- not all guests are good people. Under the roof were loopholes to shootthrough, and to pour down boiling water or even molten lead on the enemy, should heapproach. Inside the house the rooms were very high and had ceilings of beams, and that wasvery useful considering the great deal of smoke which rose up from the chimney fire where thelarge, damp logs of wood smouldered. On the walls hung pictures of knights in armour andproud ladies in gorgeous dresses; the most stately of all walked about alive. She was calledMeta Mogen; she was the mistress of the house, to her belonged the castle. Towards theevening robbers came; they killed three of her people and also the yard-dog, and attached Mrs.Meta to the kennel by the chain, while they themselves made good cheer in the hall and drankthe wine and the good ale out of her cellar. Mrs.
Meta was now on the chain, she could noteven bark. But lo! the servant of one of the robbers secretly approached her; they must not seeit, otherwise they would have killed him. "Mrs. Meta Mogen," said the fellow, "do you stillremember how my father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on the wooden horse?You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to ride until his limbs were paralysed; but youstole down to him, as I steal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of his feetthat he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretended not to see it, for you were thenthe young gracious mistress. My father has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I willfree you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!"
Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rainand wind to obtain the assistance of friends. "Thus the small service done to the old man wasrichly rewarded!" said Meta Mogen. "Delaying is not forgetting," said the fellow. The robberswere hanged. There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belong to Mrs. Meta Mogen,it belonged to another old noble family. We are now in the present time. The sun is shining onthe gilt knob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on the water, and wild swansare swimming round them. In the garden grow roses; the mistress of the house is herself thefinest rose petal, she beams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wideworld, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten. Delaying is notforgetting!
Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in the field. Therein lives apoor paralysed girl; the window of her little room looks northward, the sun does not enter here.The girl can only see a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. But to-day thesun shines here- the warm, beautiful sun of God is within the little room; it comes from thesouth through the new window, where formerly the wall was. The paralysed girl sits in the warmsunshine and can see the wood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, andonly through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion. "The word was so easy, thedeed so small," she said, "the joy it afforded me was infinitely great and sweet!"
And thereforeshe does many a good deed, thinks of all in the humble cottages and in the rich mansions,where there are also afflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forget it.Delayed is not forgotten! An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busy traffic.There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, we remain in the kitchen, where itis warm and light, clean and tidy; the copper utensils are shining, the table as if polished withbeeswax; the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a single servant has done,and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to go to church; she wears a bow on her cap, ablack bow, that signifies mourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother,neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day she was engaged to a poor fellow;they loved each other dearly.
One day he came to her and said: "We both have nothing! Therich widow over the way in the basement has made advances to me; she will make me rich,but you are in my heart; what do you advise me to do?" "I advise you to do what you think willturn out to your happiness," said the girl. "Be kind and good to her, but remember this; fromthe hour we part we shall never see each other again." Years passed; then one day she met theold friend and sweetheart in the street;
he looked ill and miserable, and she could not helpasking him, "How are you?" "Rich and prospering in every respect," he said; "the woman isbrave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle, it will soon be ended; weshall not see each other again now until we meet before God!" A week has passed; this morninghis death was in the newspaper, that is the reason of the girl's mourning! Her old sweetheart isdead and has left a wife and three step-children, as the paper says; it sounds as if there is acrack, but the metal is pure.
The black bow signifies mourning, the girl's face points to thesame in a still higher degree; it is preserved in the heart and will never be forgotten. Delayingis not forgetting! These are three stories you see, three leaves on the same stalk. Do you wishfor some more trefoil leaves? In the little heartbook are many more of them. Delaying is notforgetting!
童话故事英语5
故事开始于一个晴朗的周末，小明收到了一本特殊的书《英语童话故事作文大全》。他充满好奇地翻开第一页，走进了一个神奇而充满想象力的世界。
书中的每一个故事都跃然纸上，令人着迷。小明忍不住停不下来，夜以继日地沉浸其中，对每个故事进行创作。而不知不觉间，小明竟被书中的故事吸引进入了一个奇幻的虚拟世界。
在这个虚拟世界里，小明遇到了一个来自遥远国度的笔友，名叫艾丽。他们一起探索着各种奇妙的童话故事，互相分享心得和创作灵感。艾丽的`奇思妙想，带领小明玩转着环游世界的童话之旅。
然而，在这个神奇的世界里，他们也遇到了困扰和挑战。小明和艾丽必须面对邪恶的巫婆和凶猛的魔兽，解开谜题、找到真爱、拯救整个童话世界。他们一起携手并肩，勇敢地面对一切困难，成为了无所不能的英雄。
童话故事英语6
THE DUMB BOOK一本不说话的书
IN the high-road which led through a wood stood a solitary farm-house; the road, in fact, ranright through its yard. The sun was shining and all the windows were open; within the housepeople were very busy. In the yard, in an arbour formed by lilac bushes in full bloom, stood anopen coffin; thither they had carried a dead man, who was to be buried that very afternoon.Nobody shed a tear over him; his face was covered over with a white cloth, under his head theyhad placed a large thick book, the leaves of which consisted of folded sheets of blotting-paper,and withered flowers lay between them; it was the herbarium which he had gathered in variousplaces and was to be buried with him, according to his own wish.
Every one of the flowers in itwas connected with some chapter of his life. "Who is the dead man?" we asked. "The oldstudent," was the reply. "They say that he was once an energetic young man, that he studiedthe dead languages, and sang and even composed many songs; then something hadhappened to him, and in consequence of this he gave himself up to drink, body and mind.When at last he had ruined his health, they brought him into the country, where someone paidfor his board and residence. He was gentle as a child as long as the sullen mood did not comeover him;
but when it came he was fierce, became as strong as a giant, and ran about in thewood like a chased deer. But when we succeeded in bringing him home, and prevailed upon himto open the book with the dried-up plants in it, he would sometimes sit for a whole day lookingat this or that plant, while frequently the tears rolled over his cheeks. God knows what was inhis mind; but he requested us to put the book into his coffin, and now he lies there. In a littlewhile the lid will be placed upon the coffin, and he will have sweet rest in the grave!" The clothwhich covered his face was lifted up;
the dead man's face expressed peace- a sunbeam fellupon it. A swallow flew with the swiftness of an arrow into the arbour, turning in its flight,and twittered over the dead man's head. What a strange feeling it is- surely we all know it- tolook through old letters of our young days; a different life rises up out of the past, as it were,with all its hopes and sorrows. How many of the people with whom in those days we used to beon intimate terms appear to us as if dead, and yet they are still alive- only we have notthought of them for such a long time, whom we imagined we should retain in our memories forever, and share every joy and sorrow with them. The withered oak leaf in the book here recalledthe friend, the schoolfellow, who was to be his friend for life.
He fixed the leaf to the student'scap in the green wood, when they vowed eternal friendship. Where does he dwell now? The leafis kept, but the friendship does no longer exist. Here is a foreign hothouse plant, too tender forthe gardens of the North. It is almost as if its leaves still smelt sweet! She gave it to him out ofher own garden- a nobleman's daughter. Here is a water-lily that he had plucked himself, andwatered with salt tears- a lily of sweet water.
And here is a nettle: what may its leaves tell us?What might he have thought when he plucked and kept it? Here is a little snowdrop out of thesolitary wood;
here is an evergreen from the flower-pot at the tavern; and here is a simpleblade of grass. The lilac bends its fresh fragrant flowers over the dead man's head; theswallow passes again- "twit, twit;" now the men come with hammer and nails, the lid isplaced over the dead man, while his head rests on the dumb book- so long cherished, nowclosed for ever!
童话故事英语7
The Naughty Boy 顽皮的孩子
Once upon a time there was an old poet-one of those good, honest old poets. One evening, as he was sitting quietly in his home, a terrible storm broke out-the rain poured down in torrents-but the old poet sat warm and cozy in his study, for a fire blazed brightly in his stove and roasting apples sizzled and hissed beside it.
"There won't be a dry stitch on anybody out in this rain," he told himself. You see, he was a very kindhearted old poet.
"Oh, please open the door for me! I'm so cold and wet!" cried a little child outside his house. Then it knocked at the door, while the rain poured down and the wind shook all the windows.
"Why, the poor little child!" cried the old poet as he hurried to open the door. Before him stood a naked little boy, with the water streaming down from his yellow hair! He was shivering, and would certainly have perished in the storm had he not been let in.
"You poor little fellow!" said the poet again, and took him by the hand. "Come in, and we'll soon have you warmed up! I shall give you some wine and a roasted apple, for you're such a pretty little boy."
And he really was pretty! His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, and his hair hung in lovely curls, even though the water was still streaming from it. He looked like a little angel, but he was pale with the cold and shivering in every limb. In his hand he held a beautiful little bow-and-arrow set, but the bow had been ruined by the rain, and all the colors on the arrows had run together.
The old poet quickly sat down by the stove and took the little boy on his knee. He dried the child's hair, rubbed the blue little hands vigorously, and heated some sweet wine for him. And pretty soon the little boy felt better; the roses came back to his cheeks, and he jumped down from the old man's lap and danced around the old poet.
"You're a cheerful boy," laughed the old man. "What's your name?"
"My name is Cupid," was the reply. "Don't you know me? There lies my bow, and I can certainly shoot with it, too. Look, the storm is over and the moon is shining!"
"Yes," the old poet said, "but I'm afraid the rain has spoiled your bow."
"That would be a shame," replied the little boy as he looked the bow over carefully. "No, it's already dry again, and the string is good and tight. No damage done. I guess I'll try it." Then he fitted an arrow to his bow, aimed it, and shot the good old poet right through the heart!
"Do you see now that my bow is not spoiled?" he said laughingly, and ran out of the house. Wasn't he a naughty boy to shoot the good old poet who had been so kind to him, taken him into his warm room, and given him his delicious wine and his best apple?
The good poet lay on the floor and wept, because he really had been shot right through the heart. "What a naughty boy that Cupid is!" he cried. "I must warn all the good children, so that they will be careful and never play with him. Because he will certainly do them some harm!" So he warned all the good children, and they were very careful to keep away from that naughty Cupid.
But he is very clever and he tricks them all the time. When the students are going home from the lectures, he runs beside them, with a black coat on and a book under his arm. They don't recognize him, but they take his arm, thinking he is a student, too, and then he sends his arrows into their hearts. And when the girls are in church to be confirmed, he is likely to catch them and shoot his darts into them. Yes, he is always after people!
In the theater he sits up in the big chandelier, burning so brightly that people think he's a lamp, but they soon find out better. He runs about the king's garden and on the rampart, and once he even shot your father and mother right through the heart! Just ask them, and you'll hear what they say.
Yes, he's a bad boy, this Cupid-you had better never have anything to do with him, for he is after all of you. And what do you think? A long time ago he even shot an arrow into your poor old grandmother! The wound has healed up, but she will never forget it.
Saucy Cupid! But now you know all about him, and what a naughty boy he is!
童话故事英语8
故事开始于一个小镇，居民们平静地生活着。然而，一天早上，他们发现镇中心出现了一个神秘的门，门上刻着“进入梦想之旅”。大家好奇地围拢过去，几个勇敢的小孩走进了门。门后面是一个夺目的世界，充满了奇幻的生物和美丽的'风景。
随着时间的推移，这群小孩越来越深入这个神奇的世界，他们遇到了各种刺激的挑战和不可思议的冒险。他们与巨龙搏斗，与妖精共舞，还在迷失的迷宫中寻找宝藏。每个人都变得更加勇敢和聪明，他们学会团结合作，并且有了无尽的想象力。
然而，随着时间的流逝，他们不得不离开这个美丽的世界回到现实生活中。他们经历了许多艰难的离别，但他们永远不会忘记这段不可思议的旅程。回到小镇后，他们用自己的经历和故事鼓舞着其他人，让他们相信梦想是可以实现的。
这个电影以一个小镇的故事为背景，将现实世界与奇幻世界相融合。通过孩子们的冒险，展现了惊险刺激、友情和成长的故事。观众将被带入一个充满魔法和惊喜的旅程中，体验到无尽的想象力和梦想的力量。
童话故事英语9
The Daisy 雏菊
NOW listen! In the country, close by the high road, stood a farmhouse; perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself. There was a little flower garden with painted wooden palings in front of it; close by was a ditch, on its fresh green bank grew a little daisy; the sun shone as warmly and brightly upon it as on the magnificent garden flowers, and therefore it thrived well. One morning it had quite opened, and its little snow-white petals stood round the yellow centre, like the rays of the sun. It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass, and that it was a poor despised flower; on the contrary, it was quite happy, and turned towards the sun, looking upward and listening to the song of the lark high up in the air.
The little daisy was as happy as if the day had been a great holiday, but it was only Monday. All the children were at school, and while they were sitting on the forms and learning their lessons, it sat on its thin green stalk and learnt from the sun and from its surroundings how kind God is, and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so sweetly and distinctly its own feelings. With a sort of reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and sing, but it did not feel envious. “I can see and hear,” it thought; “the sun shines upon me, and the forest kisses me. How rich I am!”
In the garden close by grew many large and magnificent flowers, and, strange to say, the less fragrance they had the haughtier and prouder they were. The peonies puffed themselves up in order to be larger than the roses, but size is not everything! The tulips had the finest colours, and they knew it well, too, for they were standing bolt upright like candles, that one might see them the better. In their pride they did not see the little daisy, which looked over to them and thought, “How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure the pretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God, that I stand so near and can at least see all the splendour.” And while the daisy was still thinking, the lark came flying down, crying “Tweet,” but not to the peonies and tulips—no, into the grass to the poor daisy. Its joy was so great that it did not know what to think. The little bird hopped round it and sang, “How beautifully soft the grass is, and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silver dress is growing here.” The yellow centre in the daisy did indeed look like gold, while the little petals shone as brightly as silver.
How happy the daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird kissed it with its beak, sang to it, and then rose again up to the blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of an hour before the daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed, yet glad at heart, it looked over to the other flowers in the garden; surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour that had been done to it; they understood its joy. But the tulips stood more stiffly than ever, their faces were pointed and red, because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky; it was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have given the daisy a good lecture. The little flower could very well see that they were ill at ease, and pitied them sincerely.
Shortly after this a girl came into the garden, with a large sharp knife. She went to the tulips and began cutting them off, one after another. “Ugh!” sighed the daisy, “that is terrible; now they are done for.”
The girl carried the tulips away. The daisy was glad that it was outside, and only a small flower—it felt very grateful. At sunset it folded its petals, and fell asleep, and dreamt all night of the sun and the little bird.
On the following morning, when the flower once more stretched forth its tender petals, like little arms, towards the air and light, the daisy recognised the bird’s voice, but what it sang sounded so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad, for it had been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of the happy days when it could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in the fields, and of the time when it could soar almost up to the clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what could be done? Indeed, that was very difficult for such a small flower to find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was, how warmly the sun was shining, and how splendidly white its own petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird, for which it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden; one of them had a large sharp knife, like that with which the girl had cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little daisy, which could not understand what they wanted.
“Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark,” said one of the boys, and began to cut out a square round the daisy, so that it remained in the centre of the grass.
“Pluck the flower off” said the other boy, and the daisy trembled for fear, for to be pulled off meant death to it; and it wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of turf into the poor captive lark’s cage.
“No let it stay,” said the other boy, “it looks so pretty.”
And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark’s cage. The poor bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word, much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed.
“I have no water,” said the captive lark, “they have all gone out, and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created.” And it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed it with its beak and said: “You must also fade in here, poor little flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals a fragrant flower. Alas! you only remind me of what I have lost.”
“I wish I could console the poor lark,” thought the daisy. It could not move one of its leaves, but the fragrance of its delicate petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than such flowers usually have: the bird noticed it, although it was dying with thirst, and in its pain tore up the green blades of grass, but did not touch the flower.
The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in its anguish; a faint and mournful “Tweet, tweet,” was all it could utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not, as on the previous evening, fold up its petals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when they saw the dead bird, they began to cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and adorned it with flowers. The bird’s body was placed in a pretty red box; they wished to bury it with royal honours. While it was alive and sang they forgot it, and let it suffer want in the cage; now, they cried over it and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf, with the little daisy in it, was thrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it.
童话故事英语10
笨小猪很不爱学习，于是有一天，它趁着老师睡觉的时候逃了学。
在街上逛着逛着，笨小猪看到了一台电脑，电脑屏幕上有好多有趣的游戏世界，但需要用钱来购买。笨小猪连忙找来小熊存钱罐，用头狠狠的撞过去，啪的一声，罐子破了。笨小猪一边摸着头上的包，一边数，刚刚好可以去其中的一个王国。笨小猪刚走进来就看到了好多好多美食，情不自禁的走进一家汉堡店。他点了薯条、可乐和汉堡。笨小猪不一会儿就吃完，摸着圆滚滚的肚子，满意的舔了舔舌头：“真好吃呀！”
这时，服务员A说：“您一共消费三百元。”小猪一摸口袋，糟糕，一分钱也没有。服务员A看到之后说：“那写一篇英语作文吧！”小猪哪会写啊，但是它只好硬着头写：AceBfFC，AZYaeM。没想到今天我竟然来到英语王国，我真是“兴奋”得死去活来！A气得跳起来：“你这算什么作文啊，平时是不是没有好好学习，算了，这次我来付吧。”
之后，笨小猪来到了一家旅馆，想睡觉，刚躺上床，却一下子被弹起来，上面写着：去背30个英语单词。小猪大叫起来，开始往外跑，想离开英语王国。刚走出房门就被卫兵C和F拦住了，他们的`小跟班c和f说：“想走？把这里的红色英文说出来！”小猪晕了过去，等它醒来后，发现自己躺在家里的床上。
后来，笨小猪开始努力学习，希望再一次去英词王国时，能够学习更多知识。
【童话故事英语】相关文章：
小学生英语童话故事06-14
英语演讲小孩子童话故事经典05-24
（热）小学生英语童话故事11篇06-14
小学生英语童话故事[优秀11篇]06-14
小学生英语童话故事合集[11篇]06-15
童话故事（精选）05-21
【精选】童话故事07-23
[经典]童话故事06-26
经典童话故事02-09