小学英语 英语故事(童话故事)The Naughty Boy 顽皮的孩子

2021年1月26日发(作者：叉骨)
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.

won't
be
a
dry
stitch
on
anybody
out
in
this
rain,
he
told
himself.
You
see,
he was a very kindhearted old poet.

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.

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.

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.


is Cupid,
the reply.
lies my
bow, and I can
certainly shoot with it, too. Look, the storm is over and the moon is shining!


would
be
a
shame,
replied
the
little
boy
as
he
looked
the
bow
over
carefully.

guess I'll try it.
old poet right through the heart!

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.
children, so that they will be careful and never play with him. Because he will