MYTHS & FABLES & SHORT STORIES & POETRY · 2019-04-03 · 2 In this workbook, we will; learn different genres such as myth, fable and short story compare and contrast these different

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MYTHS & FABLES

& SHORT STORIES &

POETRY GRADE 7 - TERM 4

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NAME: ___________________________________________________________

CLASS: ____________________________________________________________

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In this workbook, we will;

learn different genres such as myth, fable and short story

compare and contrast these different genres

analyze different types of text

write a different version of a short story

find literary devices such as simile, metaphor, repetition in different texts and

write our own

analyze the cultural backgrounds of different texts

Poetry

how to discover the meaning of a poem using the author’s tone and imagery

the language used in poetry and how it contributes to the overall meaning and effect

the cultural and historical importance of different pieces of poetry

Contents

*what is a myth/Fable/Short Story_________________________________3

* Myth - Echo and Narcissus______________________________________4

* Fable - Anansi and the Yam Hills_________________________________ 8

* Short Story – Siren Song________________________________________13

* All Summer in a Day___________________________________________18

* The Widow and the Parrot______________________________________ 25

* Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”_______________34

* William Wordsworth, “Daffodils”_________________________________36

* Write Your Own Poetry_________________________________________38

* Bonus Tasks & Booklet Evaluation_________________________________39

*Notes________________________________________________________41

OUR GOALS

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*Watch & Listen & Complete the empty boxes.

*Be ready to discuss your notes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJeBEXe8frI

What’s a legend-a Myth- a Fable? What are the differences? Date:__________________

LEGENDS MYTHS FABLES

Evidence

that events

occurred /

people existed?

No

When and

where did it happen?

Typically in more recent historical past.

Anytime

Is it fact

or fiction?

No evidence to prove it as fact. Fictional stories explaining how "the world was created" or some type of natural situation that occurred on Earth.

Who are they about?

Gods, supernatural.

What are they about? Often about heroic deeds, overcoming obstacles / problems.

EXAMPLES ?

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Before Reading

1. What do you see in the picture? How do you think it’s related to the myth Echo & Narcissus?

2. Look at the vocabulary chart and fill the empty boxes with appropriate answers.

Word Meaning Sentence

nymph (n.)

a beautiful young woman (in mythology)

treachery (n.)

The King decided to get rid of some of his men because he was suspecting treachery.

to shun (v)

He shunned himself from the society and stopped seeing others.

to yearn (v.)

I yearn to see my old friend again.

to gaze (v.)

to look with interest

gaunt (adj.)

extremely thin and bony from great hunger or torture

to envy (v.) I envy her ability to talk to people in public.

to repel (v.)

to scorn (v.)

grief (n.) A sharp sorrow / pain after a loss

to suffer (v.)

Myth-Echo and Narcissus-Vocabulary Date:______________________

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While Reading the myth, underline the supernatural beings or events.

In Greek mythology Echo was a wood nymph who loved a youth by the name of Narcissus. He was a beautiful

creature loved by many, but Narcissus loved no one. He enjoyed attention, praise and envy. In Narcissus' eyes

nobody matched him, and as such he considered none were worthy of him.

Echo's passion for Narcissus was equaled only by her passion for talking, as she always had to have the last word.

One day she helped the escape of the goddess Juno's husband by engaging Juno in a long conversation. On

finding out Echo's treachery Juno cursed Echo by removing her voice; she could only speak which was spoken

to her.

Echo often waited in the woods to see Narcissus, hoping for a chance to be noticed. One day as she lingered in

the bushes, Narcissus heard her footsteps and called out “Who's here?” Echo replied “Here!” Narcissus called

again "Come", Echo replied "Come!" Narcissus called once more “Why do you shun me? ... Let us join one

another.” Echo was overjoyed that Narcissus had asked her to join him. She longed to tell him who she was and

of all the love she had for him in her heart, but she could not speak. She ran towards him and threw herself upon

him.

Narcissus became angry “Hands off! I would rather die than you should have me!” and threw Echo to the ground.

Echo left the woods a ruin, her heart broken. Ashamed, she ran away to live in the mountains, yearning for a

love that would never be returned. The grief killed her. Her body became one with the mountain stone. All that

remained was her voice, which replied in kind when others spoke.

Narcissus continued to attract many nymphs, all of whom he briefly entertained before scorning and refusing

them. The gods grew tired of his behavior and cursed Narcissus. They wanted him to know what it felt like to

love and never be loved. They made it so there was only one whom he would love, someone who was not real

and could never love him back.

One day whilst out enjoying the sunshine Narcissus came upon a pool of water. As he gazed into it he caught a

glimpse of what he thought was a beautiful water spirit. He did not recognize his own reflection and was

immediately fascinated. Narcissus bent down his head to kiss the vision. As he did so, the reflection mimicked

his actions. Narcissus reached into the pool to draw (pull) the water spirit to him. The water displaced and the

vision was gone. He panicked – where had his love gone? When the water became calm the water spirit

Myth-Echo and Narcissus (a Greek Myth) Date:______________________

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returned. “Why, beautiful being, do you shun me? Surely, my face is not one to repel you. The nymphs love me,

and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When I stretch forth my arms, you do the same and you smile

upon me and answer my signals.” Again, he reached out and again his love disappeared. Frightened to touch the

water, Narcissus lay still by the pool, gazing into the eyes of his vision.

He cried in frustration. As he did so Echo also cried. He did not move, he did not eat or drink, he only suffered.

As he pined, he became gaunt, losing his beauty. The nymphs that loved him pleaded with him to come away

from the pool. As they did so Echo also pleaded with him. He was transfixed; he wanted to stay there forever.

Narcissus, like Echo, died with grief. His body disappeared, and where his body once lay a flower grew in its

place. The nymphs mourned his death, and as they mourned Echo also mourned.

Comprehension

1. Watch the link below. Take notes about what MYTH is. Be ready to discuss

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1oWioEwKgs

2. What supernatural beings or events did you underline in this myth? Write 2 examples.

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2. Do you know any myths from your country?

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Myth-Echo and Narcissus (a Greek Myth) Date:______________________

What is a Myth?

a traditional story, especially

about the early history of

people or explaining a

natural or social

phenomenon, and typically

involving supernatural beings

or events

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Echo and Narcissus- Comprehension Date:______________________

3. Why is it important that his own reflection became Narcissus’ weakness? Explain the reasons

explicitly. Are there any real examples of this from real life in the age of social media?

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4. What does “narcissism” mean? What can be the results of it when extreme?

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5. Narcissus loses his beauty because of his love for his own beauty.

What can be the moral of this myth related to vanity?

( vanity: excessive pride in one’s look, abilities…)

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Answer:

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Fun Fact

There is also a flower called Narcissus. Why do you

think it’s named after the mythological character?

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Before Reading

1. What kind of characteristic features can you think of about spiders? What kind of a personality do you

think they would have in a story?

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2. Look at the vocabulary chart and fill the empty boxes with appropriate answers. Check QUIZLET!

Word Meaning Sentence

to recite (v.) to repeat from memory

to sprout (v.) plants to grow and give

shoots

to rely on (v.)

You can rely on Monica to do the job well; she is an

excellent worker.

mound (n.)

He decided to pile up five mounds of the rich brown

soil.

yam (n.)

to snatch (v.)

The young man snatched the woman's purse from her

hands, and ran off down the street.

fowl (n.)

birds

which

are

hunted or kept for food

to be within an

earshot (v.)

loot (n.) Stolen money &

valuables in a war

A Fable- Anansi and the Yam Hills Date:__________________

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3. Fill in the gaps with the words you learnt.

a. My father always says ‘Do not ______________ on me ! You need to work to be successful in life’.

b. In spring, plants start to _______________ and they grow and some of them give fruits.

c. I practiced the poem so many times and I can _______________ it from memory now!

d. My little brother ________________ away my iPad from my hand and made me furious!

e. I heard everything cause I was ________________________ .

f. Pirates had a great time spending that ___________________ after the robbery!

g. In America, I tasted __________________ which was very sweet and delicious.

While reading, underline the parts where animals act like humans.

Once in a before time, there lived an old woman who had magical powers. Her name was 5. She was also so

evil that some people called her a witch. 5 hated her name. No one knows why her parents named her the

number 5. When she was a child, other children would make fun of her name. Sometimes when she was

within earshot, they would look out the corner of their eyes and giggle as they said.

"Give me 5!"

When she grew up, 5 decided to put an end to the name-calling. So, she created a weird spell.

"Anyone who says '5' will drop dead,” she said. But then she changed her mind. “From this day on, anyone

who says ‘5’ will disappear." This spell immediately caused a problem in the country. No one could say that

number again without disappearing. Children could no longer recite their five times tables. People had to drop

the word 'five' from their vocabulary. In 5’s village, the unlucky number was no longer 13.

Once, a customer asked a merchant, “How much is that blue T-shirt?”

“That shirt is 5 doh... ” Suddenly there was a loud “SWOOSH!” before the merchant could finish his sentence.

He disappeared right in front of the customer's eyes!

A crafty spider named Anansi lived in 5's village. He had heard about the witch’s spell. Times were very hard.

Anansi was not a farmer and he had no food at all to eat. His wife and children

were starving. Since Anansi was small, and not a very good worker, he could

only rely on his brain to get whatever he needed to survive.

He said to himself. "Things are tough, boy! I must make this witch's spell work

for me".

Fable-Anansi and the Yam Hills-Vocabulary Date:______________________

Anansi and the Yam Hills-African Fable

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Anansi went to the road that led to the village's marketplace. He chose a spot on the side of the road where

everyone on the way to market would have to pass. There, near a large Guangu tree, he decided to pile up five

mounds of the rich brown soil. These mounds he called "yam hills". In the top of each yam hill, he planted an

African yellow yam. Anansi carefully watered the yams until each one began to sprout.

Anansi made a web-like a hammock in the Guangu tree and patiently waited for someone to come by. Early

one morning, after each yam shoot had poked its head out of a mound, Anansi sat down next to his yam hills.

Soon, Brother Dog came by on his way to the market. Dog balanced a basket of sweet-smelling fruits on his

head as he walked down the road.

"Good morning Brother Dog," said Anansi in a sugary voice. "I know that you are busy, and I feel so stupid. I

am not an educated man like you. Would you help me to count how many yam hills I have planted here?"

Anansi asked. "You should have gone to school to learn how to count!" Brother Dog said grumpily as he

walked away from Anansi towards the market.

Anansi climbed up into the Guangu tree and waited. The next person to come by was Brother Bull. He carried a

large basket of fruits on his head. "Good day Bro' Bull." Anansi said in a sad voice. "Could you just spare me

one minute?" Anansi begged. "What can I do for you, Anansi?" Bro' Bull asked. "I was a little and sickly child.

So, my parents did not send me to school. I never learned my ABC's. I planted all these yam hills... Can you

help me to count them?" Anansi said. "But, of course Anansi" Bro' Bull replied.

"You have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...." SWOOSH!

As he said that number, Brother Bull disappeared into thin air. The basket of sweet ripe fruits that he had been

carrying on his head, fell to the ground. Anansi snatched up the basket of fruits and rushed home to eat them.

For a long time, Anansi did very well tricking some passersby into counting his yam hills. He grew fat from all

the baskets of food he had gathered. He had tricked Brothers Turtle, Owl, Mongoose, Hare, Peenie-Wallie the

firefly, and even the tough Bro' Scorpion.

Mrs. Guinea fowl was a nice young mother of newly hatched children. She could not say 'no' to anyone. She

and her husband were selling their produce in the village. That day it was her turn to go to the marketplace.

She loaded up her hand basket and headed for the market. As she got closer to the yam hills Anansi was

nowhere in sight. Just as she was about to pass yam hill number 4, Anansi the spider lowered himself down

from his perch in the Guangu tree. He called out in his sugary voice. "Good morning Mrs. Guinea Fowl. Could

you help me with a problem?" "Of course Anansi". The polite Mrs. Guinea Fowl said. "I

have these yam hills here, and I don't know how to count... Would you help me?

Pleeezz." Anansi begged. Mrs. Guinea Fowl, who had seen Anansi trick Bro' Scorpion,

walked over to the last yam hill and climbed up on top of it.

She said. “You have 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... and the one I am standing on".

"What! What are you doing? That is not the way you count!" Anansi shouted angrily.

"What do you mean, Anansi?" Mrs. Guinea Fowl said.

"I don't know of any number called 'the one I'm standing on'. Start again!” Anansi ordered.

Mrs. Guinea Fowl began again. "You have 1, 2, 3, 4 ... and the one I am standing on".

"That is not what you are supposed to say!" Anansi shouted even more angrily.

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"Well ... If you are so smart... What am I supposed to say?" Mrs. Guinea Fowl asked.

Anansi shouted, "You are supposed to say 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... Oops…” Suddenly, Anansi disappeared, leaving Mrs.

Guinea Fowl with all the loot that he had gotten from tricking his victims.

Anansi and the Yam Hills-Comprehension________________________________

After Reading

1. Apart from Anansi, what other animals are included in the fable? Choose 2 and write about their

personalities using at least one adjective for each. Use implicit details about their behavior, words or

thoughts to explain their personal traits.

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2. Why did Anansi decide to trick his friends? Explain his character using at least 3 adjectives.

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What you have just read is an African fable. Why is this a fable?

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3. Compare and contrast Anansi and Mrs. Guinea fowl’s wisdom and values using the Venn diagram.

Anansi Mrs. Guinea

4. What do you think the moral of this fable is? Give 2 explicit examples to explain the moral of the story.

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5. Have you ever been tricked by a friend or a stranger before? How did you feel? Why? Write a peel

paragraph to explain your feelings.

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Before Reading 1. Last year you learned about PLOT DIAGRAMS. Label the parts of a plot diagram using the words in the box.

2. Write a peel paragraph explaining the main difference between a short story and a myth or a

fable.

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3. Why do you think the story is called ‘SIREN SONG’? What type of a story do you think it is? Why?

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Short Story-Siren Song- Vivien Alcock Date:______________________

rising action resolution climax exposition falling action

STORY

ARC

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1. Check the example given. Create your own Vocab boxes. Check Quizlet for support.

Siren Song- Vocabulary Date:______________________

To TWITCH

Sentence Sentence

Sentence Sentence

Sentence Sentence

To DANGLE

To GLEAM PECULIAR

SMUGGLER To MUMBLE

Synonyms Synonyms

Synonyms Synonyms

Synonyms Synonyms

Definition

Definition Definition

Definition

Definition Definition Drawing Drawing

Drawing Drawing

Drawing Drawing

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1 August 1981

Dear Tape Recorder, This is me. My name’s Roger and I’m nine years old today. You’re my birthday present.

Happy birthday to me,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday, dear both-of-us …

1 August 1982

R for Roger. R for Roger. This is Roger, mark ten, calling. I’m not going to bore you with a bite-by-bite

account of my birthday tea, like last year. This time only record the exciting moments in my life. Over and out.

1 August 1983

My name is Roger Kent. I am eleven years old. I want to get this down in case anything happens to me. I

hate this village. I wish we hadn’t come to live here. There’s something funny about it. For one thing, there are

no other children here. Except Billy Watson, and he’s weird. He’s a thin, white-faced boy who jumps when you

speak to him. Mom says he’s been ill, and I must be kind. I was. I asked him to come to my birthday tea today.

He twitched like I’d stabbed him in the back, and his eyes moved about like beetles. Then he mumbled

something and ran off.

The grown-ups are peculiar too. They’re old and baggy-eyed, as if they’d been crying all night. When they

see me, they stop talking. They watch me. It’s a bit scary. At first I thought they didn’t like me. But it’s not that.

They look as if they know something terrible’s going to happen to me, and are sorry about it.

Mrs. Mason’s the worst. I hate the way she looks at me. Her eyes are… I dunno . . . sort of hungry. I don’t

mean she’s a cannibal. It’s more like . . . D’you know why gerbils sometimes eat their own babies? It’s because

they’re afraid they’re in danger, and think they’ll be safer back inside.

That’s just how Mrs. Mason looks at me. As if she’d like to swallow me to keep me safe. But what from?

This morning, when she heard it was my birthday, she hugged me. I jerked away. I didn’t mean to be rude. I

honestly thought she was going to start nibbling my ear. That’s the sort of state I’m in.

I “never go out at night,” she said. (That’s nothing. Mom’s always telling me that nowadays. It’s what came

next.) “Never go out at night, whatever sounds you hear!” Funny thing to say, wasn’t it? “Whatever sounds you

hear.” I’ve been thinking and thinking, but I can’t imagine what she meant. If we lived by the sea, I’d think of

smugglers. You know, like that poem – “Watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by.”

Full moon tonight. I’m going to stay awake and listen. It must be happening somewhere near enough for

me to hear, or she wouldn’t have said that. Supposing they use our garden? Suppose Mom’s joined them!

She’s been a bit strange lately. No, that’s silly.

22.30 P.M. I’m sitting by the window. Nothing’s happened yet. Just the usual night noises, and not many of

those. This village dies after ten o’clock. A dog barking. An owl getting on my nerves, can’t the stupid thing say

anything else?

It’s boring, I think I’ll go to bed for a bit.

0.00. I’ve got a digital clock and that’s what it says. Like Time’s laid eggs in a row. No time. Nothing point

nothing nothing time. Don’t count your minutes before they’re hatched.

What’s that? Only an owl. The window’s wide open, and it’s cold. The moon is round and bright. There are

shadows all over the garden. I can’t see anything. It’s very quiet now, No wind.

Listen! Children! I can hear children laughing. I can hear their voices calling softly …

I think they’re in Billy Watson’s garden. He must be having a midnight party, and he hasn’t asked me! Pig!

No wonder he ran off when I invited him to tea.

I wish I could see them. There’re too many trees. Too many shadows.

Listen! This microphone’s too small, I held it out of the window, but I didn’t get anything.

Siren Song - by Vivien Alcock Date: ________________

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They were singing. Their voices were high and clear. I could hear every word. It was a funny little tune. Sort

of sad, but nice, There’s a chorus where they all hoot softly like baby owls. I think I can remember the words—

“Little ghost, all dressed in white,

Walking on a summer’s night, (Hooo, hooo,)

Calling to her childhood friend,

Asking him to come and play,

But his hair stands up on end.

Billy Watson runs ‘away.’”

Billy Watson! So they are friends of his! I suppose they’re playing a game …

Listen ….. It was a girl singing alone this time. I’m sure it was a girl. Her voice was so high and sweet and

sad, it made me ache. This is what she sang—

“Don’t you love me anymore?

I’m as pretty as before. (Hooo, hooo,)

Though my roses all are gone,

Lily-white is just as sweet.

Stars shine through me now, not on

Flesh that’s only so much meat.”

I wish I could see her … “Coo-ee! Over here!”

They heard me. I know they did. They’re whispering. Now they’re coming nearer. I can hear the bushes

rustling by our wall. Look! I think one of them’s slipped over into our garden. It’s difficult to be sure. There are

so many shadows. I’m going to dangle the microphone out of the window. . . .

Listen!

“Billy, see the moon is bright.

Won’t you play with me tonight? (Hooo, hooo,)

Billy Watson’s now in bed,

With his fingers in his ears,

And his blankets hide his head,

And his face is wet with tears.”

I got it that time! It’s very faint, but you can just make out the words. I don’t think they can be friends of Billy’s

after all. They sounded as if they were mocking him, I wonder who they are?

Oh, they’re going away now! I can hear them running through the bushes. Laughing. They’ve gone!

No. There’s still one standing in the shadow of the lilac tree. Just below my window. I’m sure it’s the girl. I can

see her white dress gleaming … unless it’s just moon-light. She’s all alone now. Waiting for me.

Listen!

“Little ghost all dressed in white

Singing sadly in the alight, (Hooo, hooo,)

Who will play with me instead?

Must I be lonely till the end?

Brave enough to be my friend?”

I’m coming! Wait for me! I know I promised Mom I’d never go out at night, but … The moon is shining bright as

day. Someone is singing in the garden below. Softly. Sweetly. Surely, it won’t matter if I go out just once.

Is there any child in bed

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The rest of the tape is blank. Roger Kent was never seen again.

1. Which literary devices are used in this short story to make it more effective? Write 2 different examples.

a. ___________________________________________________________________________________

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b. ___________________________________________________________________________________

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2. Write an example of foreshadowing used in Siren Song. Explain why and how it was used explicitly.

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3. How is the storytelling style different in this short story than regular short stories? How does it affect the

reader? Support with examples.

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4. BE CREATIVE! If Roger Kent was found 2 years later, what would his birthday tape recording be like?

1 August 1985

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Siren Song- Comprehension Date:_______________________

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All Summer in a Day- By Ray Bradbury Date:_________________

Fill in the vocabulary chart with the missing information. For additional support , use the links given.

http://www.thesaurus.com/

http://dictionary.reference.com/

Word Meaning Synonym Antonym

frail (adj.) strong

to recall (v.) remember

to slacken (v.) to tighten

barely (adv.)

dimly (adv.) brightly

solemn (adj.) serious look

savagely (adv.) violently

immense (adj.) tiny

* What’s the difference between an adjective and an adverb? Explain & write examples.

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1. Dim (adj.) - dimly (adv.)

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2. Savage (adj.) - savagely (adv.)

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3. Bare (adj.) –barely (adv.)

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Change these adjectives to adverbs: SOLEMN: _______________ IMMENSE: __________________

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All Summer in a Day- By Ray Bradbury Date:_________________

No one in the class could remember a time when there wasn’t rain.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Now?”

“Soon.”

“Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?”

“Look, look; see for yourself!”

The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed, peering out for a look at

the hidden sun.

It rained.

It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end

to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the

concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had been

crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was

forever on the planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and women who

had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their lives.

“It’s stopping, it’s stopping!”

“Yes, yes!”

Margot stood apart from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn’t rain and rain

and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out

for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at night, she heard

them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering and old or a yellow crayon or

a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a

blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they always awoke to the

tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the

forests, and their dreams were gone.

All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they

had written small stories or essays or poems about it:

I think the sun is a flower, that blooms for just one hour.

That was Margot’s poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.

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”Aw, you didn’t write that!” protested one of the boys.

“I did,” said Margot. “I did.”

“William!” said the teacher.

But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the

children were crushed in the great thick windows.

“Where’s teacher?”

“She’ll be back.”

“She’d better hurry, we’ll miss it!”

They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes.

Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the

rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was

an old photograph dusted from an album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost.

Now she stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.

“What’re you looking at?” said William. Margot said nothing.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He gave her a shove. But she did not move; rather she let herself by moved

only by him and nothing else.

They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she

would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city. If they tagged her and ran, she

stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and life and games

her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched

the windows.

And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth, and

she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio. And they, they

had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had

long since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was. But Margot remembered.

“It’s like a penny,” she said once, eyes closed.

“No it’s not!” the children cried.

“It’s like a fire,” she said, “in the stove.”

“You’re lying, you don’t remember!” cried the children.

But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And once,

a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and

over her head, screaming the water mustn’t touch her head.

So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away.

There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to earth next year; it seemed vital to her that

they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family. And so, the children hated her

for all these reasons. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future.

21

“Get away!” The boy gave her another shove. “What’re you waiting for?”

Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes.

“Well, don’t wait around here!” cried the boy savagely. “You won’t see nothing!”

Her lips moved. “Nothing!” he cried. “It was all a joke, wasn’t it?” He turned to the other children. “Nothing’s

happening today. Is it?”

They all blinked at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads. “Nothing, nothing!”

“Oh, but,” Margot whispered, her eyes helpless. “But this is the day, the scientists predict, they say, they

know, the sun. . . .”

“All a joke!” said the boy, and seized her roughly. “Hey, everyone, let’s put her in a closet before teacher

comes!”

“No,” said Margot, falling back.

They pushed her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a

tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door and saw it

tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, they

turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.

“Ready, children?” she glanced at her watch. “Yes!” said everyone. “Are we all here?” “Yes!” The rain slackened still more. They crowded to the huge door. The rain stopped. It was as if, in the midst of a film, concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption,

something had ,first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of

the blasts and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector and inserted in its place a

peaceful tropical slide which did not move or tremor. The world ground to a standstill. The silence was so

immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing altogether.

The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The door slid back and the smell of the silent,

waiting world came in to them.

The sun came out.

It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile color. And

the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling, into the

springtime.

“Now don’t go too far,” called the teacher after them. “You’ve only two hours, you know. You wouldn’t want

to get caught out!”

But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm

iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms.

“Oh, it’s better than the sun lamps, isn’t it?”

22

“Much, much better!”

They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus that grew and never stopped growing,

tumultuously, even as you watched it. It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of flesh-like weed,

wavering, flowering this brief spring. It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the many years

without sun. It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the moon.

The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and squeak under them, resilient and

alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hide-and-seek and

tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran down their faces, they put their hands up to

that yellowness and that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and listened and listened

to the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion. They looked at everything

and savored everything. Then, wildly, like animals escaped from their caves, they ran and ran in shouting

circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop running.

And then—

In the midst of their running one of the girls wailed.

Everyone stopped.

The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.

“Oh, look, look,” she said, trembling.

They came slowly to look at her opened palm.

In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop.

She began to cry, looking at it.

They glanced quietly at the sky.

“Oh. Oh.”

A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths. The sun faded behind a stir of mist. A

wind blew cool around them. They turned and started to walk back toward the underground house, their

hands at their sides, their smiles vanishing away. A boom of thunder startled them and like leaves before a

new hurricane, they tumbled upon each other and ran. Lightning struck ten miles away, five miles away, a

mile, a half mile. The sky darkened into midnight in a flash.

They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard. Then they closed the

door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.

“Will it be seven more years?”

“Yes. Seven.”

Then one of them gave a little cry.

“Margot!”

“What?”

“She’s still in the closet where we locked her.”

“Margot.”

23

They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor. They looked at each other and

then looked away. They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining steadily. They

could not meet each other’s glances. Their faces were solemn and pale. They looked at their hands and feet,

their faces down.

”Margot.

One of the girls said, “Well . . .?”

No one moved.

“Go on,” whispered the girl.

They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of the cold rain. They turned through the doorway to the room

in the sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces, blue and terrible. They walked over to the

closest door slowly and stood by it.

Behind the closed door was only silence.

They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.

All Summer in a Day-Comprehension Date: ___________________ After Reading

1. Why doesn’t Margot fit in with the other children? Do you think there was any bullying? Give 2 explicit

details.

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2. How have the people on Venus adapted to the rainy climate? How can they survive in this climate?

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3. This story uses many comparisons to present ideas. Find similes or metaphors from the story about the

places, the sun, or the characters.

a. Simile:

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b. Metaphor:

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c. Imagery:

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4. What do you think the theme of the story is? Explain why with supporting ideas & examples.

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5. Continue the story. What happened next? Think of Margot’s personality and write accordingly. Use the

literary devices we learnt this year( Foreshadowing, Flashback, metaphor…….)

Behind the closed door was only silence.

They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.

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6. On a separate piece of paper, prepare the PLOT PYRAMID/STORY ARC of this story.

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Pre-reading

1. Who was Virginia Woolf? Find at least 3 facts about her. __________________________________________________________________________________________

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2. Would you think that people who interact with animals are weird? Why/why not)?

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All the words below are connected to our story. Check them on QUIZLET and study their meanings.

How could these be connected to the story? Try to make meaningful predictions about the story using them.

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The Widow and the Parrot – By Virginia Woolf Date:_______________

The Widow and the Parrot-Vocabulary Date:________________

ford ( n.) meadow ( n.) to fetch ( v.) ablaze ( adj.)

extinguish ( v.) miraculous (adj) miserly (adv.)

poverty (n.) tide (n.) to suffocate (v.) perch (n.)

26

Read the story (taken from Prentice Hall Literature)

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf (1882 – 1941)

Some fifty years ago, Mrs. Gage, an elderly widow, was sitting in her cottage in a village

called Spilsby in Yorkshire. Although lame, and rather short-sighted she was doing her

best to mend a pair of clogs, for she had only a few shillings a week to live on. As she

hammered at the clog, the postman opened the door and threw a letter into her lap. It

had the address ‘Messrs. Stagg and Beetle, 67 High Street, Lewes, Sussex.'

Mrs. Gage opened it and read: ‘Dear Madam: We have the honour to inform you of the

death of your brother Mr Joseph Brand.'

‘Oh my….,‘ said Mrs Gage. ‘Old brother Joseph gone at last!’

‘He has left you his entire property', the letter went on, ‘which consists of a house, stable, cucumber frames,

mangles, wheelbarrows etc., etc. in the village of Rodmell, near Lewes. He also gives you his entire fortune;

£ 3,000. (three thousand pounds) sterling.'

Mrs Gage almost fell into the fire with joy. She had not seen her brother for many years, and, as he did not even

acknowledge the Christmas card which she sent him every year, she thought that his miserly habits, well known

to her from childhood, made him save even a penny stamp for a reply. But now it had all turned out to her

advantage. With three thousand pounds, to say nothing of house etc., etc., she and her family could live in great

luxury for ever.

She determined that she must visit Rodmell at once. The village clergyman, the Rev Samuel Tallboys, lent her

two pound ten, to pay her fare, and by next day all preparations for her journey were complete. The most

important of these was the care of her dog Shag during her absence, for in spite of her poverty she was devoted

to animals, and often did not eat herself rather than starve her dog.

She reached Lewes late on Tuesday night. In those days, I must tell you, there was no bridge over the river at

Southease, nor had the road to Newhaven yet been made. To reach Rodmell it was necessary to cross the river

Ouse by a ford, traces of which still exist, but this could only be attempted at low tide, when the stones on the

river bed appeared above the water. Mr Stacey, the farmer, was going to Rodmell in his cart, and he kindly

offered to take Mrs Gage with him. They reached Rodmell about nine o‘clock on a November night and Mr

Stacey pointed out to Mrs Gage the house at the end of the village which had been left to her by her brother.

Mrs Gage knocked at the door. There was no answer. She knocked again. A very strange high voice shrieked out

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf Date:________________

27

‘Not at home.’ She was so much taken aback that if she had not heard footsteps coming she would have run

away. However the door was opened by an old village woman, by name Mrs Ford.

‘Who was that shrieking out "Not at home"? said Mrs Gage.

‘Oh the bird!’ said Mrs Ford very peevishly, pointing to a large grey parrot. ‘He almost screams my head off.

There he sits all day humped up on his perch like a monument screeching "Not at home" if ever you go near his

perch.' He was a very handsome bird, as Mrs Gage could see; but his feathers were sadly neglected. ‘Perhaps he

is unhappy, or he may be hungry,’ she said. But Mrs Ford said it was temper mostly; he was a seaman’s parrot

and had learnt his language in the east. However, she added, Mr Joseph was very fond of him, had called him

James; and, it was said, talked to him as if he were a human being. Mrs Ford soon left. Mrs Gage at once went

to her box and fetched some sugar which she had with her and offered it to the parrot, saying in a very kind

tone that she meant him no harm, but was his old master’s sister, come to take the house, and she would see

to it that he was as happy as a bird could be. Taking a lamp, she next went round the house to see what sort of

property her brother had left her. lt was a bitter disappointment. There were holes in all the carpets. The

bottoms of the chairs had fallen out. Rats ran along the mantelpiece. There were large toadstools growing

through the kitchen floor. There was not a stick of furniture worth seven pence halfpenny; and Mrs Gage only

cheered herself by thinking of the three thousand pounds that lay safe and snug in Lewes Bank.

She determined to set off to Lewes the next day in order to claim her money from Messrs Stagg and Beetle the

lawyers, and then to return home as quickly as she could. Mr Stacey, who was going to the market with some

fine Berkshire pigs, again offered to take her with him, and told her some terrible stories of young people who

had been drowned through trying to cross the river at high tide, as they drove. A great disappointment was in

store for the poor old woman directly she got in to Mr Stagg’s office.

‘Take a seat, Madam,’ he said, looking very solemn and grunting slightly. ‘The fact is,' he went on, ‘that you must

prepare to face some very disagreeable news. Since I wrote to you I have gone carefully through Mr Brand’s

papers. I regret to say that I can find no trace whatever of the three thousand pounds. Mr Beetle, my partner,

went himself to Rodmell and searched the house with the utmost care. He found absolutely nothing - no gold,

silver, or valuables of any kind - except a fine grey parrot which I advise you to sell for whatever he will fetch.

His language, Benjamin Beetle said, is very extreme. I much fear you have had your journey for nothing. The

house is a ruin; and of course our expenses are considerable.' Here he stopped, and Mrs Gage well knew that

he wished her to go. She was almost crazy with disappointment. Not only had she borrowed two pound ten from

the Rev. Samuel Tallboys, but she would return home absolutely empty handed, for the parrot James would

have to be sold to pay her fare. It was raining hard, but Mr Stagg did not press her to stay, and she was too

beside herself with sorrow to care what she did. In spite of the rain she started to walk back to Rodmell across

the meadows.

Mrs Gage, as I have already said, was lame in her right leg. At the best of times she walked slowly, and now, what with her disappointment and the mud on the river bank her progress was very slow indeed. As she plodded along, the day grew darker and darker, until it was as much as she could do to keep on the raised path by the river side. You might have heard her grumbling as she walked, and complaining of her crafty brother Joseph, who had put her to all this trouble ‘Express,’ she said, ‘to plague me. He was always a cruel little boy

28

when we were children,' she went on. ‘He liked worrying the poor insects, and I’ve known him trim a hairy

caterpillar with a pair of scissors before my very eyes. He was such a miserly varmint too. He used to hide his

pocket money in a tree, and if anyone gave him a piece of iced cake for tea, he cut the sugar off and kept it for

his supper. I make no doubt he’s all aflame at this very moment in Hell fire, but what‘s the comfort of that to

me?’ she asked, and indeed it was very little comfort, for she ran slap into a great cow which was coming along

the river bank, and rolled over and over in the mud.

She picked herself up as best she could and trudged on again. It seemed to her that she had been walking for

hours. It was now so dark and she could scarcely see her own hand before her nose. Suddenly she recalled her

of Farmer Stacey’s words about the ford. ‘How shall I find my way across?’ she said. If the tide‘s in, I will step

into deep water and be swept out to sea in a jiffy! Many drowned here; to say nothing of horses, carts, herds of

cattle, and stacks of hay.’

Indeed what with the dark and the mud she had got herself into a pretty pickle. She could

hardly see the river itself, let alone tell whether she had reached the ford or not. No lights

were visible anywhere, for, as you may be aware, there is no cottage or house on that side

of the river nearer than Asheham House, lately the seat of Mr Leonard Woolf. It seemed

that there was nothing for it but to sit down and wait for the morning. But at her age, with

the rheumatics in her system, she might well die of cold. On the other hand, if she tried

to cross the river it was almost certain that she would be drowned. So miserable was her

state that she would gladly have changed places with one of the cows in the field. No more

wretched old woman could have been found in the whole county of Sussex; standing on

the river bank, not knowing whether to sit or to swim, or merely to roll over in the grass,

wet though it was, and sleep or freeze to death, as her fate decided.

At that moment a wonderful thing happened. An enormous light shot up into the sky, like a gigantic torch,

lighting up every blade of grass, and showing her the ford not twenty meters away. It was low tide, and the

crossing would be an easy matter if only the light did not go out before she had got over.

‘It must be a Comet or some such wonderful monstrosity,’ she said as she walked across. She could see the

village of Rodmell brilliantly up in front of her.

‘BIess us and save us!’ she cried out. ‘There’s a house on fire - thanks be to the Lord’ - for she thought that it

would take some minutes at least to burn a house down, and in that time she would be well on her way to the

village.

‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,’ she said as she hobbled along the Roman road. Sure enough, she

could see every inch of the way, and was almost in the village street when for the first time it struck her, ‘Perhaps

it’s my own house that‘s blazing before my eyes!'

She was perfectly right.

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf

29

A small boy in his nightgown came capering up to her and cried out, ‘Come and see old

Joseph Brand’s house ablaze!'

All the villagers were standing in a ring round the house handing buckets of water which

were filled from the well in Monk’s House kitchen, and throwing them on the flames.

But the fire had got a strong hold, and just as Mrs Gage arrived, the roof fell in.

‘Has anybody saved the parrot?' she cried.

‘Be thankful you’re not inside yourself, Madam,' said the Rev James Hawkesford, the clergyman. ‘Do not worry

for the dumb creatures. I make no doubt the parrot was mercifully suffocated on his perch.’

But Mrs Gage was determined to see for herself. She had to be held back by the village people, who remarked

that she must be crazy to put her life in danger for a bird.

‘Poor old woman,’ said Mrs Ford, ‘she has lost all her property, save one old wooden box, with her night things

in it. No doubt we should be crazed in her place too.’

So saying, Mrs Ford took Mrs Gage by the hand and led her off to her own cottage, where she was to sleep the

night. The fire was now extinguished, and everybody went home to bed.

But poor Mrs Gage could not sleep. She tossed and tumbled thinking of her miserable state, and wondering how

she could get back to Yorkshire and pay the Rev Samuel Tallboys the money she owed him. At the same time

she was even more grieved to think of the fate of the poor parrot James. She had taken a liking to the bird, and

thought that he must have an affectionate heart to mourn so deeply for the death of old Joseph Brand, who had

never done a kindness to any human creature. It was a terrible death for an innocent bird, she thought; and if

only she had been in time, she would have risked her own life to save his.

She was lying in bed thinking these thoughts when a slight tap at the window made her start. The tap was

repeated three times over. Mrs Gage got out of bed as quickly as she could and went to the window. There, to

her utmost surprise, sitting on the window ledge was an enormous parrot. The rain had stopped and it was a

fine moonlight night. She was greatly alarmed at first, but soon recognised the grey parrot, James, and was

overcome with joy at his escape. She opened the window, stroked his head several times, and told him to come

in. The parrot replied by gently shaking his head from side to side, then flew to the ground, walked away a few

steps, looked back as if to see whether Mrs Gage were coming, and then returned to the window sill, where she

stood in amazement.

‘The creature has more meaning in its acts than we humans know,’ she said to herself. ‘Very well, James,' she

said aloud, talking to him as though he were a human being, ‘l’ll take your word for it. Only wait a moment while

I make myself decent.’

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf

30

So saying she pinned on a large apron, crept as lightly as possible downstairs, and let herself

out without rousing Mrs Ford.

The parrot James was evidently satisfied. He now hopped briskly a few yards ahead of her in

the direction of the burnt house. Mrs Gage followed as fast as she could. The parrot hopped,

as if he knew his way perfectly, round to the back of the house, where the kitchen had

originally been. Nothing now remained of it except the brick floor, which was still dripping

with the water, which had been thrown to put out the fire. Mrs Gage stood still in amazement while James

hopped about, pecking here and there, as if he were testing the bricks with his beak. It was a very uncanny sight,

and had not Mrs Gage been in the habit of living with animals, she would have lost her head, very likely, and

hobbled back home.

But stranger things yet were to happen. All this time the parrot had not said a word. He suddenly got into a state

of the greatest excitement, fluttering his wings, tapping the floor repeatedly with his beak, and crying so shrilly,

‘Not at home! Not at home!' that Mrs Gage feared that the whole village would be roused.

‘Don't take on so James; you’ll hurt yourself,’ she said soothingly. But he repeated his attack on the bricks more

violently than ever.

‘Whatever can be the meaning of it?’ said Mrs Gage, looking carefully at the kitchen floor. The moonlight was

bright enough to show her a slight unevenness in the laying of the bricks, as if they had been taken up and then

relaid not quite flat with the others. She had fastened her apron with a large safety pin, and she now put this

pin between the bricks and found that they were only loosely laid together. Very soon she had taken one up in

her hands. No sooner had she done this than the parrot hopped onto the brick next to it, and, tapping it smartly

with his beak, cried, ‘Not at home!’ which Mrs Gage understood to mean that she was to move it. So they went

on taking up the bricks in the moonlight until they found some space. This the parrot seemed to think was

enough. But what was to be done next?

Mrs Gage now rested, and determined to be guided entirely by the behaviour of the parrot James. She was not

allowed to rest for long. After scratching about in the sandy foundations for a few minutes, as you may have

seen a hen scratch in the sand with her claws, he unearthed what at first looked like a round lump of yellowish

stone. His excitement became so intense, that Mrs Gage now went to his help. To her amazement she found

that the whole space which they had uncovered was packed with long rolls of these round yellow stones, so

neatly laid together that it was quite a job to move them. But what could they be? And for what purpose had

they been hidden here? It was not until they had removed the entire layer on the top, and next a piece of oil

cloth which lay beneath them, that a most miraculous sight was displayed before their eyes - there, in row after

row, beautifully polished, and shining brightly in the moonlight, were thousands of brand new gold coins!!!!

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf

31

This, then, was the miser’s hiding place; and he had made sure that no one would see it by taking two

extraordinary precautions. ln the first place, as was proved later, he had built a kitchen range over the spot

where his treasure lay hid, so that unless the fire had destroyed it, no one could have guessed its existence; and

secondly he had coated the top layer of sovereigns with some sticky substance, then rolled them in the earth,

so that if by chance one had been laid bare no one would have suspected that it was anything but a pebble such

as you may see for yourself any day in the garden. Thus, it was only by the extraordinary coincidence of the fire

and the parrot’s intelligence that old Joseph’s craft was defeated.

Mrs Gage and the parrot now worked hard and removed the coins - which numbered three

thousand pieces, neither more nor less - placing them in her apron, which was spread upon the

ground. As the three thousandth coin was placed on the top of the pile, the parrot flew up into

the air in triumph and alighted very gently on the top of Mrs Gage’s head. It was in this fashion

that they returned to Mrs Ford’s cottage, at a very slow pace, for Mrs Gage was lame, as I have

said, and now she was almost weighted to the ground by the contents of her apron. But she

reached her room without anyone knowing of her visit the ruined house.

Next day she returned to Yorkshire. Mr Stacey once more drove her into Lewes and was rather surprised to find

how heavy Mrs Gage’s wooden box had become. But he was a quiet sort of man, and merely thought that the

kind people at Rodmell had given her a few things to console her for the loss of all her property in the fire. Out

of goodness of heart Mr Stacey offered to buy the parrot off her; but Mrs Gage refused his offer, saying that she

would not sell the bird even for all the wealth of the Indies, that he concluded that the old woman had become

crazy by her troubles.

It now only remains to be said that Mrs Gage got back to Spilsby in safety; took her black box to the Bank; and

lived with James the parrot and her dog Shag in great comfort and happiness to a very great age.

lt was not till she lay on her deathbed that she told a friend the whole story, adding that she

was quite sure that the house had been burnt on purpose by the parrot James, who, being

aware of her danger on the river bank, flew into the fire, and moved the oil stove which was

keeping some scraps warm for her dinner. By this act, he not only saved her from drowning, but

brought to light the three thousand pounds, which could have been found in no other manner.

Such, she said, is the reward of kindness to animals.

The clergyman thought that she was wandering in her mind. But it is certain that the very moment the breath

was out of her body, James the parrot shrieked out, ‘Not at home! Not at home!’ and fell off his perch stone

dead.

Visitors to Rodmell may still see the ruins of the house, which was burnt down fifty years ago, and it is commonly

said that if you visit it in the moonlight you may hear a parrot tapping with his beak upon the brick floor, while

others have seen an old woman sitting there in a white apron.

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf

32

Answer the questions below on your own; then compare with a friend.

In the blank, write the letter of the one best answer.

____ 1. The author’s primary purpose in writing “The Widow and the Parrot” is to

a. inform readers of parrot behavior.

b. entertain readers with an engaging story.

c. persuade readers of animal intelligence.

d. criticize miserly behavior.

____ 2. Which word best describes Mrs. Gage’s lifestyle at the beginning of “The Widow and the

Parrot”?

a. modest / humble c. extravagant

b. mysterious d. unfulfilling

____ 3. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” what does the parrot’s phrase “Not at home!” reveal about

Joseph Brand, the parrot’s owner?

a. He had a good sense of humor.

b. He appreciated the parrot’s intelligence.

c. He did not like the company of others.

d. He was a miser.

____ 4. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” how does Mrs. Gage’s treatment of her dog give clues also

about her showing kindness to the parrot?

a. It reveals that Mrs. Gage cares deeply for animals.

b. It shows that she prefers dogs to birds.

c. It demonstrates that she is a lonely, old woman.

d. It indicates that she thinks animals are better than people.

____ 5. What can you infer about Mrs. Gage’s attitude toward the parrot when they first met?

a. She thinks the parrot is ill-tempered and doesn’t want to take responsibility for it.

b. She is concerned about the parrot and wants to make it happy.

c. She thinks it is an unattractive bird with sadly neglected feathers.

d. She is appalled by the parrot’s foul language and obnoxious screeching.

____ 6. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” the farmer tells Mrs. Gage terrible tales of young people

drowning while crossing the river at high tide. What effect does this detail have on the story?

a. It foreshadows events.

b. It creates suspense.

c. It shows Mrs. Gage’s motivation.

d. It helps readers identify with Mrs. Gage.

The Widow and the Parrot by Virginia Woolf

33

Answer the question in full sentences giving as many details as possible.

1. Write a peel paragraph about comparing and contrasting Mrs. Gage’s ideas about the parrot with Mrs.

Ford’s.

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2. Do you think Mrs. Gage’s good fortune is a reward, or is it just a coincidence? Explain your answer.

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3. Look at the story board below. Create your own story board for ‘The Widow and The Parrot’.

You may plan here first. Use a separate sheet of paper for the actual storyboard please.

34

POETRY ROBERT FROST

Robert Frost was an American poet during the early 1900s. He wrote some of the most

important and beloved poetry in recent history, and he was well-known for depicting rural

American life in his poems. He spent most of his life in the Northeast of America, also

known as New England, and many of his poems are based in that area.

Frost’s most well-known poetry usually revolved around nature, and how humans interact

with it. He uses beautiful language to describe nature. Robert Frost is one of the most

influential poets in American history. He died in 1963.

Read the poem and answer the questions on the next page.

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know. ___

His house is in the village, though; ___

He will not see me stopping here ___

To watch his woods fill up with snow. ___

My little horse must think it queer ___

To stop without a farmhouse near ___

Between the woods and frozen lake ___

The darkest evening of the year. ___

He gives his harness bells a shake ___

To ask if there is some mistake. ___

The only other sounds the sweep ___

Of easy wind and downy flake. ___

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, ___

But I have promises to keep, ___

And miles to go before I sleep, ___

And miles to go before I sleep. ___

Vocabulary

Queer: strange or unusual

Harness: straps attached to a horse or

carriage that the driver holds to steer

Downy: soft as a feather; like a pillow

Mood of the poem

The mood refers to the atmosphere of the poem. The mood

evokes certain feelings and emotions in the reader. The

mood of a poem may be described as idealistic, romantic,

realistic, optimistic, gloomy, imaginary or mournful.

WHAT’S IS THE MOOD OF THIS POEM? WHY

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEtMLqP

7tpA

http://study.com/academy/lesson/stopping-by-

woods-on-a-snowy-evening-summary-theme-

analysis.html

http://www.sparknotes.com/p

oetry/frost/section10.rhtml

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Stepping By Woods On a Snowy Evening - QUESTIONS

1) Go back to the poem and label the rhyme scheme in the blanks next to each line. Use letters to label each line that

rhymes, starting with A.

2) Why do you think the man stops to look at the woods? What do the woods represent to the narrator?

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3) What are the “promises” the narrator mentions in the final stanza? Do you think the narrator is excited about keeping

those promises? Why or why not?

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4) Why do you think the author repeats the final two lines? What is the purpose of this repetition? Does the author mean

different things each time he says the line? If so, what does he mean?

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36

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

William Wordsworth was a British poet, and was one of the most important poets in

English history. He lived from 1770 to 1850 and one one of the first writers of “romantic

poetry,” poems using lots of drama. He began writing poetry when he was just 8 years

old and published his last book just three months before he died.

Wordsworth’s parents died when he was in primary school, and he grew up in an

orphanage with his four siblings. He used his experiences in his poetry and became

famous for writing about the “common man” of Britain.

Read the poem and answer the questions on the next page.

I wandered lonely as a cloud ____

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, ____

When all at once I saw a crowd, ____

A host, of golden daffodils; ____

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, ____

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. ____

Continuous as the stars that shine ____

And twinkle on the milky way, ____

They stretched in never-ending line ____

Along the margin of a bay: ____

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, ____

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. __

The waves beside them danced; but they ____

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: ____

A poet could not but be gay, ____

In such a jocund company: ____

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought ____

What wealth the show to me had brought: ____

For oft, when on my couch I lie ____

In vacant or in pensive mood, ____

They flash upon that inward eye ____

Which is the bliss of solitude; ____

And then my heart with pleasure fills, ____

And dances with the daffodils. ____

Vocabulary

Vales: valleys

Sprightly: lively; alive

Jocund: cheerful; light-hearted

Oft: often

Vacant: empty

Pensive: thoughtful

Bliss: pure joy

Solitude: isolation; alone-ness

Gay: happy / joyful

Glee: pleasure

For extra support:

http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/wordsworth/section7.rhtml

37

Daffodils - QUESTIONS

1. Label the rhyme scheme of the poem in the blanks next to each line.

2. Underline and label one example of each of these poetic devices listed below. Then, explain why the author uses each

one.

3. What does the speaker find special about the daffodils? Why does he or she remember them so clearly?

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2. The speaker says, “I gazed—and gazed—but little thought / What wealth the show to me had brought.” What wealth

did the daffodils bring to the speaker? Why did he not realize this when he first saw the daffodils?

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3. List as many descriptive adjectives as you can from the poem. What do these adjectives do for the reader of the poem?

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Simile

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Hyperbole

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Repe on

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Personi ca on

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Imagery

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WRITE YOUR OWN POETRY

Poetic Devices

Simile

Metaphor

Imagery

Hyperbole

Repetition

Personification

Alliteration

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FREE VERSE

Congratulations! You’ve followed all the rules—now you get to break them, and write whatever and however

you want. This space is yours for your poems. Be creative!

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RHYMING VERSE

Now, you are going to write a poem that rhymes. You may follow the rhyme scheme of the previous poems or

make your own rhyme scheme.

Please circle at least two of the poetic devices in the box to use in your poem.

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EARLY FINISHERS

Here are some extra tasks related to POETRY.

Choose from the tasks below and complete.

1. Watch the video on POETIC DEVICES in POP CULTURE!

Note down the poetic devices mentioned and give an example. Use the notes page.

2. Read and think... Which of these poetry styles have you learnt / heard before?

Choose one style and write your own poem.

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3. MAYA ANGELOU

An American poet, storyteller, activist, and autobiographer, Maya Angelou was

born in St. Louis, Missouri in 1928. Angelou had a broad career as a singer, dancer,

actress, composer, and Hollywood's first female black director, but is most famous as a

writer, editor, essayist, playwright, and poet. She had a very tough life. As a civil rights

activist, Angelou worked for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. Forest University.

She died in 2014. I RISE

We read this poem in Grade 6. Let’s see if you can remember.

Read and listen to her very famous poem ‘ I RISE ‘ once again by visiting the link given.

Analyze her poem. Take your notes on the notes section.

What’s the THEME ? * What is the MOOD/TONE? * What’s her MESSAGE ?

Have you spotted any literary devices (figurative language use) ?

https://www.poets.org/poetso

rg/poem/still-i-rise

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What stuck with you?

Write at least 3 new things you have learnt in this booklet:

References : https://wiki.kidzsearch.com/wiki/Virginia_Woolf

https://kids.kiddle.co/Virginia_Woolf

http://www.thesaurus.com/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJeBEXe8frI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WH5jlkK4aUI

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Booklet Evaluation

What do you want to see more of in the booklet? What do you want to see less of?

Offer an alternative.

Notes