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Those Evening Bells

Th.Moore

Those evening bells!

Those evening bells!

How many a tale their music tells,

Of love, and home, and that sweet time,

When last I heard their soothing chime!

Those joyous hours are passed away!

And many a heart that then was gay

Within the tomb now darkly dwells

And hears no more those evening bells!

And so 'twill be when I am gone,

That tuneful peal will still ring on,

While other bards shall walk these dells,

And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

The Daffodils

W.Wordsworth

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.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 sound's 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.

Home-Thoughts, from Abroad

Robert Browning

Oh, to be in England

Now that April is there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England — now:

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge —

That's the wise thrush: he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children's dower,

— Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

The Song of Hiawatha

H.W.Longfellow

(Extract)



Ye who love the haunts of Nature,

Love the sunshine of the meadow,

Love the shadow of the forest,

Love the wind among the branches,

And the rain-shower and the snow-storm,

And the rushing of great rivers

Through their palisades of pine-trees,

And the thunder in the mountains,

Whose innumerable echoes

Flap like eagles in their eyries; —

Listen to these wild traditions,

To this song of Hiawatha!

Ye who love a nation's legends

, Love the ballads of a people,

That like voices from afar off

Call to us to pause and listen,

Speak in tones so plain and childlike,

Scarcely can the ear distinguish

Whether they are sung or spoken; —

Listen to this Indian Legend,

To this Song of Hiawatha!

If

Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings — nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is fhe Earth and everything that's in it,

And — which is more — you'll be a Man, my son!

 

 

SUPPLEMENT

SECTION TWO

Ex. 12, a)

... George said his watch went wrong one evening, and stopped at a quarter past eight. He didn't know this at the time because, for some reason or other, he forgot to wind it up when he went to bed.

... It was in the winter when this happened, very near the short­est day, and a week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark when George woke in the morning was no guide to him as to the time.

... It was a quarter past eight. "Angels and ministers of grace de­fend us!" exclaimed George, "and here have I got to be in the City by nine. Why didn't somebody call me? Oh, this is a shame!" And he flung the watch down, and sprang out of bed, and had a cold bath, and washed himself and dressed himself, and shaved himself in cold water because there was not time to wait for the hot, and then rushed and had another look at the watch.

Whether the shaking it had received in being thrown down on the bed had started it, or how it was, George could not say, but cer­tain it was that from a quarter-past eight it had begun to go, and now pointed to twenty minutes to nine.

George snatched it up, and rushed downstairs. In the sitting- room, all was dark and silent: there was no fire, no breakfast.

... Then he dashed on his great-coat and hat, and, seizing his umbrella, made for the front door ... and ran out.

He ran hard for a quarter of a mile, and at the end of that dis­tance it began to be borne in upon him as a strange and curious thing that there were so few people about, and that there were no shops open.

... Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the po­liceman, and asked him if he knew what time it was.

"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion, "why, if you listen you will hear it strike."

George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged.

"But it's only gone three!" said George in an injured tone, when it had finished.

"Well, and how many did you want it to go?" replied the con­stable.

"Why, nine," said George, showing his watch. "Do you know where you live?" said the guardian of public or­der severely.

George thought, and gave the address.

"Oh! that's where it is, is it?" replied the man; "well, you take my advice and go there quietly, and take that watch of yours with you; and don't let's have any more of it."

(From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K.Jerome)

SECTION THREE

Ex. 19.

Harry: Nora! Nora!

Nora (coming into the room): Yes, what is it now, Harry?

Harry: Oh, there you are. Look here, Nora, I'm tired of lying here on my back with nothing to do. I hate doing nothing.

Nora: Don't be silly, Harry. You've got a temperature, and staying in bed is the only sensible thing to do. Now just be quiet, and stop preventing me from doing my housework.

Harry: No, seriously, Nora, I can't bear it. Lying flat on my back!

Nora: Well then, try lying on your stomach for a change!

Harry: Stop being funny. I'm going to get up. There! Look, I'm standing up. I'm quite all right. What's the use of staying in bed?

Nora: I think you're being very silly. You'll only make your temperature go up again.

Harry: It's no use talking, Nora — being ill doesn't suit me.

N o r a: No — and trying to nurse you doesn't suit me!

Harry: Now don't be bitter about it. You know I'm grateful to you for looking after me. But you mustn't try to keep me in bed like a naughty boy.

Nora: Well, you began it by behaving like a naughty boy!

Harry: I'm all against this staying in bed for no reason.

Nora: Harry, being ill is a reason... Now don't stand by that window and catch another cold... Let me see, half past eleven.

Harry: Why do you keep looking at the clock?

Nora: I'm expecting Mother — she's coming over for the day.

Harry: Good heavens! I didn't know that.

Nora: Yes, I think she has something she wants to talk to you about.

Harry: Oh heavens! Has she (groans)... You know, Nora, I do feel a bit ill; perhaps I had better get back to bed.

Nora (disingenuously): Oh, what a pity! I thought perhaps you might stay up to see her.

H a r r y (to himself): That's the very reason I'm getting back into bed!

Nora: What did you say?

Harry: Oh, er — nothing.

(From "Meet the Parkers", Tartu, 1961)

SECTION FOUR

Ex. 12.

Harry: We shall be awfully late home if that No. 12 bus doesn't come soon... Let's stand in this doorway out of the wind.

Nora: All right, but we must be careful not to miss the bus... How did you enjoy the film?

H a r r y: I'd never have gone if I had known it was going to be so silly.

Nora: Why, what was silly about it?

Harry: Well, no sane man would have married that other girl so soon after he had murdered his wife. It was sure to make people suspicious,

Nora: If he had been sane he wouldn't have murdered her! Besides the girl wouldn't have waited for him if he hadn't asked her immediately.

H a r r y: All the better for him if she hadn't! Nora: Yes, but then he wouldn't have paid for his crime. Anyhow, I'd have enjoyed the film much more if Elsa Hollywood had been in it instead of Linda Spangle.

Harry: And I'd have enjoyed it more, if we hadn't gone at all.

Nora [sharply): And I'd have enjoyed it more, if you hadn't been so rude to that woman in front.

Harry: Well, I shouldn't have been rude to her if she had stopped chattering when I asked her.

Nora: I wish you'd behave better in public places.

Harry: I behave better! I like that! Why, if that woman had... (Sound of bus starting up.) But look, isn't that a No. 12 bus just going?

Nora: Yes, it is, and we've missed it after all. We should have seen that bus, Harry, if you hadn't been so busy quarrelling.

Harry (in injured tones): Really, Nora, I think it would have been much better if I had stayed at home tonight and let you go to the cinema alone.

(From "Meet the Parkers", Tartu, 1961)

Ex. 14.

You see, it was in this way: we were sitting in a meadow, about ten yards from the water's edge, and we had just settled down com­fortably to feed. Harris had the beefsteak pie between his knees, and was carving it, and George and I were waiting with our plates ready.

"Have you got a spoon there?" said Harris. "I want a £poon to help the gravy with."

The hamper was close behind us, and George and I both turned round to reach one out. We were not five seconds getting it. When we looked round again, Harris and the pie were gone.

It was a wide, open field. There was not a tree or a bit of hedge for hundreds of yards. He couldn't have tumbled into the river, be­cause we were on the water side of him, and he would have had to climb over us to do it.

George and I gazed all about. Then we gazed at each other...

"I suppose the truth of the matter is," suggested George, "that there has been an earthquake."

And then he added, with a touch of sadness in his voice: "I wish he hadn't been carving that pie."

With a sigh, we turned our eyes once more towards the spot where Harris and the pie had last been seen on earth, and there, as our blood froze in our veins and our hair stood up on end, we saw Harris's head — and nothing but his head — sticking bolt upright among the tall grass, the face very red, and bearing upon it an ex­pression of great indignation.

George was the first to recover.

"Speak!" he cried, "and tell us whether you are alive or dead — and where is the rest of you?"

"Oh, don't be a stupid ass!" said Harris's head. "I believe you did it on purpose."

"Did what?" exclaimed George and I.

"Why, put me to sit here — darn silly trick! Here, catch hold of the pie." And out of the middle of the earth, as it seemed to us, rose the pie — very much mixed up and damaged; and, after it, scram­bled Harris — tumbled, grubby, and wet.

He had been sitting, without knowing it, on the very verge of a small gully, the long grass hiding it from view; and in leaning a lit­tle back he had shot over, pie and all.

(From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome)

 

 

our blood froze in our veins and our hair stood up on end, we saw Harris's head — and nothing but his head — sticking bolt upright among the tall grass, the face very red, and bearing upon it an ex­pression of great indignation.

George was the first to recover.

"Speak!" he cried, "and tell us whether you are alive or dead — and where is the rest of you?"

"Oh, don't be a stupid ass!" said Harris's head. "I believe you did it on purpose."

"Did what?" exclaimed George and I.

"Why, put me to sit here — darn silly trick! Here, catch hold of the pie." And out of the middle of the earth, as it seemed to us, rose the pie — very much mixed up and damaged; and, after it, scram­bled Harris — tumbled, grubby, and wet.

He had been sitting, without knowing it, on the very verge of a small gully, the long grass hiding it from view; and in leaning a lit­tle back he had shot over, pie and all.

(From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome)

SECTION FIVE

Ex. 11.

On the Boat

"This way for the Dover boat."

"Have your passports ready, please."

"Pass up the gangway."

"First class to the right, second class to the left."

"Here we are. Would you like to stay up on deck or go down be­low?"

"Oh, I don"t know. I'm not much of a sailor."

"Oh, you won't be sea-sick today. The sea is perfectly calm. We're sure to have a good crossing. I'll get a couple of deck chairs, up here, in the sun."

"Oh, well, I'll risk it. But if the worst comes to the worst, don't blame me."

"Do you travel much?"

"Not more than I can help by sea. I've crossed the channel once before but frankly I did not enjoy it."

"Why don't you fly across?"

"I think I shall one of these days. It couldn't possibly be worse than a really bad sea crossing."

"I can see the English coast already, can you?" "Yes, just. Well, I suppose we'd better get ready for landing."

"I say, you haven't got anything dutiable, have you? If you have, you'd better declare it. Whatever you do, don't try to bribe the customs officer or you'll get into trouble."

"I don't think I'm quite as foolish as that. As a matter of fact, I don't think I have anything to declare. Still, thanks all the same."

 

 

GRAMMAR EXERCISES

MORPHOLOGY


Date: 2015-12-17; view: 981


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