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Ch,13.(lyric poety)p.588
Piano
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| by D. H. Lawrence |
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Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
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1. jot down a breif phrase of this poem.show that the speaker says is happening at present and also what he finds him self remebering.
A woman playing the piano, then a boy sitting under the piano,remembering its him self when he was a young boy first starting to play the piano.I think this poem show charecter and is showing the past, showing when the author first started playing the piano.
2.What are the speakers various feelings?What do you understand from the words insidious and betrays?
The feelings in this poem are hate, sadness, and betrayed.The word betray in this poem is describing going back to the past and remembering.The word insidious is describing curious/optimistic.
3.With what specific details does the poem make the past seems real?
Talking about old sunday evenings,while it was winter.Also he was talking about him being childish with manhood in the future.
4.What is the subject of lawrences poem?How would you state its theme?
The subject of the poem would be letting things be in the past and trying to move on to the future.The theme i think would be,Drama.
(narriative poetry)p.590
Anonymous(traditonal scottish ballad)
Sir Patrick Spence
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?"
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se."
The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.
The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.
"O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!
"Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:"
"O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.
"Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme."
O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.
O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.
Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It's fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.
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