World Literature Midterm Exam
WORLD LITERATURE
ONLINE EXAMINATION
2ND SEMESTER SY 2008-2009
CLASS OF JUSTIN NICOLAS
Dear Students:
Please read the following poems and answer the questions on a separate Word 97-2003 Document (.doc) [Please do NOT save it in the Word 2007 verson (.docx)] Assign a filename using the following format LT220_MTEB0809_(SECTION)_(NAME).doc. (Ex. LT220_MTEB0809_MK2-3_JoanVillas.doc). Email your answers to angsosyoklasrum@yahoo.com indicating your section and name on the subject (Ex. World Lit Exam MK 2-3 Joan Villas) Be sure to put you name on the filename and the email subject so that your examination will not get lost. Enjoy!
Directions:
For each of the following poems, answer the following:
What is your literal translation of each stanza (or every four lines)? What do these lines connote?
What are the elements used in the poem? Give an example from the text.
Did the author use symbolism in the poem? What is you interpretation of these symbolisms?
What is the social or historical significance of the poem? What issues are being presented by the author?
Read the biography of the author. How is the poem significant to the life of the author?
What is the personal significance of the poem to you?
In general, what is the theme that the author is trying to convey?
Based on you insights from the poem, write you own poem (at least two stanzas, four lines per stanza). You may also choose to write a sonnet or a haiku.
Poem 1
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I marked the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
Poem2
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on that sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Poem3
Television
Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,So far as children are concerned,Is never, NEVER, NEVER letThem near your television set --Or better still, just don't installThe idiotic thing at all.In almost every house we've been,We've watched them gaping at the screen.They loll and slop and lounge about,And stare until their eyes pop out.(Last week in someone's place we sawA dozen eyeballs on the floor.)They sit and stare and stare and sitUntil they're hypnotised by it,Until they're absolutely drunkWith all that shocking ghastly junk.Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,They don't climb out the window sill,They never fight or kick or punch,They leave you free to cook the lunchAnd wash the dishes in the sink --But did you ever stop to think,To wonder just exactly whatThis does to your beloved tot?IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLINDHE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTANDA FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,'But if we take the set away,What shall we do to entertainOur darling children? Please explain!'We'll answer this by asking you,'What used the darling ones to do?'How used they keep themselves contentedBefore this monster was invented?'Have you forgotten? Don't you know?We'll say it very loud and slow:THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,AND READ and READ, and then proceedTo READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!One half their lives was reading books!The nursery shelves held books galore!Books cluttered up the nursery floor!And in the bedroom, by the bed,More books were waiting to be read!Such wondrous, fine, fantastic talesOf dragons, gypsies, queens, and whalesAnd treasure isles, and distant shoresWhere smugglers rowed with muffled oars,And pirates wearing purple pants,And sailing ships and elephants,And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,Stirring away at something hot.(It smells so good, what can it be?Good gracious, it's Penelope.)The younger ones had Beatrix PotterWith Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-Just How The Camel Got His Hump,And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-Oh, books, what books they used to know,Those children living long ago!So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,Go throw your TV set away,And in its place you can installA lovely bookshelf on the wall.Then fill the shelves with lots of books,Ignoring all the dirty looks,The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,And children hitting you with sticks-Fear not, because we promise youThat, in about a week or twoOf having nothing else to do,They'll now begin to feel the needOf having something to read.And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!You watch the slowly growing joyThat fills their hearts. They'll grow so keenThey'll wonder what they'd ever seenIn that ridiculous machine,That nauseating, foul, unclean,Repulsive television screen!And later, each and every kidWill love you more for what you did.
Poem4
Where the Sidewalk Ends
Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd before the street begins,And there the grass grows soft and white,And there the sun burns crimson bright,And there the moon-bird rests from his flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.Let us leave this place where the smoke blows blackAnd the dark street winds and bends.Past the pits where the asphalt flowers growWe shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And watch where the chalk-white arrows goTo the place where the sidewalk ends.Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,For the children, they mark, and the children, they knowThe place where the sidewalk ends.
Poem5
Alone With EverybodyCharles Bukowski
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate. nobody ever finds the one. the city dumps fill the junkyards fill the madhouses fill the hospitals fill the graveyards fill nothing else fills.
***end of the exam****
ONLINE EXAMINATION
2ND SEMESTER SY 2008-2009
CLASS OF JUSTIN NICOLAS
Dear Students:
Please read the following poems and answer the questions on a separate Word 97-2003 Document (.doc) [Please do NOT save it in the Word 2007 verson (.docx)] Assign a filename using the following format LT220_MTEB0809_(SECTION)_(NAME).doc. (Ex. LT220_MTEB0809_MK2-3_JoanVillas.doc). Email your answers to angsosyoklasrum@yahoo.com indicating your section and name on the subject (Ex. World Lit Exam MK 2-3 Joan Villas) Be sure to put you name on the filename and the email subject so that your examination will not get lost. Enjoy!
Directions:
For each of the following poems, answer the following:
What is your literal translation of each stanza (or every four lines)? What do these lines connote?
What are the elements used in the poem? Give an example from the text.
Did the author use symbolism in the poem? What is you interpretation of these symbolisms?
What is the social or historical significance of the poem? What issues are being presented by the author?
Read the biography of the author. How is the poem significant to the life of the author?
What is the personal significance of the poem to you?
In general, what is the theme that the author is trying to convey?
Based on you insights from the poem, write you own poem (at least two stanzas, four lines per stanza). You may also choose to write a sonnet or a haiku.
Poem 1
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I marked the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
Poem2
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on that sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Poem3
Television
Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,So far as children are concerned,Is never, NEVER, NEVER letThem near your television set --Or better still, just don't installThe idiotic thing at all.In almost every house we've been,We've watched them gaping at the screen.They loll and slop and lounge about,And stare until their eyes pop out.(Last week in someone's place we sawA dozen eyeballs on the floor.)They sit and stare and stare and sitUntil they're hypnotised by it,Until they're absolutely drunkWith all that shocking ghastly junk.Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,They don't climb out the window sill,They never fight or kick or punch,They leave you free to cook the lunchAnd wash the dishes in the sink --But did you ever stop to think,To wonder just exactly whatThis does to your beloved tot?IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLINDHE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTANDA FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,'But if we take the set away,What shall we do to entertainOur darling children? Please explain!'We'll answer this by asking you,'What used the darling ones to do?'How used they keep themselves contentedBefore this monster was invented?'Have you forgotten? Don't you know?We'll say it very loud and slow:THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,AND READ and READ, and then proceedTo READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!One half their lives was reading books!The nursery shelves held books galore!Books cluttered up the nursery floor!And in the bedroom, by the bed,More books were waiting to be read!Such wondrous, fine, fantastic talesOf dragons, gypsies, queens, and whalesAnd treasure isles, and distant shoresWhere smugglers rowed with muffled oars,And pirates wearing purple pants,And sailing ships and elephants,And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,Stirring away at something hot.(It smells so good, what can it be?Good gracious, it's Penelope.)The younger ones had Beatrix PotterWith Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-Just How The Camel Got His Hump,And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-Oh, books, what books they used to know,Those children living long ago!So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,Go throw your TV set away,And in its place you can installA lovely bookshelf on the wall.Then fill the shelves with lots of books,Ignoring all the dirty looks,The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,And children hitting you with sticks-Fear not, because we promise youThat, in about a week or twoOf having nothing else to do,They'll now begin to feel the needOf having something to read.And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!You watch the slowly growing joyThat fills their hearts. They'll grow so keenThey'll wonder what they'd ever seenIn that ridiculous machine,That nauseating, foul, unclean,Repulsive television screen!And later, each and every kidWill love you more for what you did.
Poem4
Where the Sidewalk Ends
Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd before the street begins,And there the grass grows soft and white,And there the sun burns crimson bright,And there the moon-bird rests from his flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.Let us leave this place where the smoke blows blackAnd the dark street winds and bends.Past the pits where the asphalt flowers growWe shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And watch where the chalk-white arrows goTo the place where the sidewalk ends.Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,For the children, they mark, and the children, they knowThe place where the sidewalk ends.
Poem5
Alone With EverybodyCharles Bukowski
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate. nobody ever finds the one. the city dumps fill the junkyards fill the madhouses fill the hospitals fill the graveyards fill nothing else fills.
***end of the exam****
posted by jef_eleven @ 12:10 PM
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