課前英語小演講2分鐘（精選3篇）

課前英語小演講2分鐘 篇1

Are you dissatisfied with today's success? It is the harvest from yesterday's sowing. Do you dream of a golden morrow? You will reap what you are sowing today. We get out of life just what we put into it.

Nature takes on our moods: she laughs with those who laugh and weeps with those who weep. If we rejoice and are glad the very birds sing more sweetly, the woods and streams murmur our song. But if we are sad and sorrowful a sudden gloom falls upon Nature's face; the sun shines, but not in our hearts, the birds sing, but not to us.

The future will be just what we make it. Our purpose will give it its character. One's resolution is one's prophecy. Leave all your discouraging pessimism behind. Do not prophesy evil, but good. Men of hope come to the front.

課前英語小演講2分鐘 篇2

who is using the arm of qiu jin, for us to put up a brilliant sky?

who is using the hard-working hands, happy for us to build a home?

are you, father, a great name but ordinary!

father of a mountain, broad-minded, the father of rivers to accommodate an umbrella for us so that we stay away from disaster

father of a vessel, carrying us, brave the wind and waves, love towards the harbor!

in the eyes of his daughter, the father is more like you are leaning against a tree in spring can love you like fantasy ganlu drop, moisten with my heart;

through the summer to enjoy your love, like bursts of breeze, the wind blowing softly beside him;

taught me to become ripe autumn, your love is to me is that the rich fruits of success

taught me to become a strong winter, you love the sun are continuously given me confidence and strength!

spring, summer, autumn and winter, the sun traces of rotation time, quietly climbed up the wind and rain on your face honed, so that you vicissitudes

not forget, you earnestly to teach the scene not forget, you sent her daughter to ride back to school is not to be forgotten, when the daughter of late in your sad eyes

課前英語小演講2分鐘 篇3

Springs are not always the same. In some years, April bursts upon Virginia hills in one prodigious leap – and all the stage is filled at once, whole choruses of tulips, arabesques of forsythia, cadenzas of flowering plum. The trees grow leaves overnight.

In other years, spring tiptoes in. It pauses, overcome by shyness, like my grandchild at the door, peeping in, ducking out of sight, giggling in the hallway. “I know you’re out there,” I cry. “Come in!” And April slips into our arms.

The dogwood bud, pale green, is inlaid with russet markings. Within the perfect cup a score of clustered seeds are nestled. One examines the bud in awe: Where were those seeds a month ago? The apples display their milliner’s scraps of ivory silk, rose-tinged. All the sleeping things wake up – primrose, baby iris, blue phlox. The earth warms – you can smell it, feel it, crumble April in your hands.