Class 6 Comp 2 August 31 Assignment 1: Read Richard Cory and answer the questions at the end of that poem. The responses are due in writing at the beginning of Class 7, which is September 7. Assignment 2: Read the Lottery and Answer the Questions at the end of the Story. This assignment is…
Category: Robert Frost
Robert Frost’s Mending Wall and Irony Class 6
Class 4: August 24 Assignment 1: Read Robert Frost’s Mending Wall and Answer the Questions Your Response is due at the beginning of Class 5, which is August 29. Mending Wall by Robert Frost – Irony in Literture
Birches by Robert Frost
Birches BY ROBERT FROST When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a…
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things by Robert Frost – Class 2a
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things Robert Frost – 1874-1964 The house had gone to bring again To the midnight sky a sunset glow. Now the chimney was all of the house that stood, Like a pistil after the petals go. The barn opposed across the way, That would have joined the house…
Mending Wall by Robert Frost – Irony in Literture
Mending Wall BY ROBERT FROST Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not…
Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost – Night As A Symbol – Night Versus Day as Themes
Acquainted with the Night BY ROBERT FROST I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain….
Robert Frost
Mowing BY ROBERT FROST There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound— And that was why it…