Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams before my helpless sight,He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.*Translation of Latin: It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country4Select the correct answer.What is the mood of the poem? A. restless B. bitter C. bewildered D. remorseful
Question
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams before my helpless sight,He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.*Translation of Latin: It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country4Select the correct answer.What is the mood of the poem? A. restless B. bitter C. bewildered D. remorseful
Solution
The mood of the poem is B. bitter.
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It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh--almost like a sob. It attracted Mr. Lorry's eyes to Carton's face, which was turned to the fire. A light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which), passed from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on a wild bright day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little flaming logs, which was tumbling forward. He wore the white riding-coat and top-boots, then in vogue, and the light of the fire touching their light surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair, all untrimmed, hanging loose about him. His indifference to fire was sufficiently remarkable to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; his boot was still upon the hot embers of the flaming log, when it had broken under the weight of Ms foot.
One night in autumn a few men were gathered about a fire on a hill. They belonged to a small detachment of Confederate forces. Their gray uniforms were worn beyond the point of shabbiness. One of the men was heating something in a tin cup over the embers. Two were lying at full length a little distance away, while a fourth was trying to decipher a letter and had drawn close to the light. He had unfastened his collar and a good bit of his flannel shirt front."What's that you got around your neck, Ned?" asked one of the men.Ned—or Edmond—mechanically fastened another button of his shirt and did not reply. He went on reading his letter."Is it your sweetheart's picture?""Taint no gal's picture," offered the man at the fire. "That's a charm. Hey, French! Ain't I right?" Edmond looked up absently from his letter."What is it?" he asked."Ain't that a charm you got round your neck?""It must be, Nick," returned Edmond with a smile. "I don't know how I could have gone through this year and a half without it."The letter had made Edmond heartsick and homesick. He stretched himself on his back and looked straight up at the blinking stars. But he was not thinking of them nor of anything but a certain spring day when a girl was saying goodbye to him. He could see her as she unclasped from her neck the locket which she fastened about his own. It was an old fashioned golden locket bearing miniatures of her father and mother. It was her most precious earthly possession. Edmond could feel again the folds of the girl's soft white gown and see the droop of the angel-sleeves as she circled her fair arms about his neck. Her sweet face, tormented by the pain of parting, appeared before him as vividly as life. He turned over, burying his face in his arm and there he lay, still and motionless. . . .Octavie wore a plain black dress, severe in its simplicity. A narrow belt held it at the waist and the sleeves were gathered into close fitting wristbands. She had discarded her hoopskirt and appeared not unlike a nun. Beneath the folds of her bodice nestled the old locket. She never displayed it now. It had returned to her sanctified in her eyes; made precious as material things sometimes are by being forever identified with a significant moment of one's existence. . . .Octavie felt as if she had passed into a stage of existence which was like a dream, more poignant and real than life. There was the old gray house with its sloping eaves. Amid the blur of green, and dimly, she saw familiar faces and heard voices as if they came from far across the fields, and Edmond was holding her. It was as if the spirit of life and the awakening spring had given back the soul to her youth and bade her rejoice.1Select the correct answer from the drop-down menu.Read the excerpt. Then choose the correct way to complete the paragraph.One theme in the excerpt is that people hold on to love despite the passage of time. The author develops this theme by describing how the .
Behind us, along the high-road, a tramcar went rocking by, doubtless bearing a few belated workers homeward. The stark incongruity of the thing was appalling. How little those weary toilers, hemmed about with the commonplace, suspected that almost within sight from the car windows, amid prosy benches, iron railings, and unromantic, flickering lamps, two fellow-men moved upon the border of a horror-land! Beneath the trees a shadow carpet lay, its edges tropically sharp; and fully ten yards from the first of the group, we two, hatless both, and sharing a common dread, paused for a moment and listened. The car had stopped at the farther extremity of the common, and now with a moan that grew to a shriek was rolling on its way again. We stood and listened until silence reclaimed the night. Not a footstep could be heard. Then slowly we walked on. At the edge of the forest we stopped again abruptly. Q 11. The time in which the scene is set is: Ops: A. in the afternoon B. early morning C. Cannot be determined D. late at night Q 12. Who is making the sound described as "moan that grew into a shriek"? Ops: A. The author B. The author's friend C. A distant car D. The tramcar Q 13. What were the author and his friend dreading? Ops: A. Cannot be determined B. Being late to work C. The arrival of the tramcar D. Being lost in the city
And then, as by a miracle, the pigmy chest, which his hands enclosed, gave a short, convulsive heave, another… and another… Andrew turned giddy. The sense of life, springing beneath his fingers after all that unavailing striving, was so exquisite it almost made him faint. He redoubled his efforts feverishly. The child was gasping now, deeper and deeper. A bubble of mucus came from one tiny nostril, a joyful iridescent bubble. The limbs were no longer boneless. The head no longer lay back spinelessly. The blanched skin was slowly turning pink. Then, exquisitely, came the child’s cry.Complete the sentence appropriately.The author’s purpose in giving minute details of the signs of life in the child is to _______________.In the given extract, which of the following organs shows the sign of a ‘miracle’ in the child’s body?LimbSkinNoseEyeWhich trait about the doctor could be discerned in the lines, “Andrew turn giddy” and “it almost made him faint”?Choose any one line from the given extract that shows the sign of life in the baby.
Some men on horseback rode up, shouting and sweating; two of them dismounted, while the other hung back to watch the horses."We want food! Give us eggs, milk, beans, anything you've got! We're starving!"The speaker wore chevrons on his arm, his companion red stripes on his shoulders."Whose place is this, old woman? Of course it's not empty. How about the light and that child there? Look here, confound it, we want to eat, and quick too. We’re coming in.""Tell me what they call this ranch, woman?" the sergeant asked."Limon," the woman replied curtly, carrying wood to the fire and fanning the coals.8Select the correct answer.How does the setting influence characterization in the text? A. The setting causes the characters to have difficulty finding food. B. The setting causes the characters to use overly polite manners. C. The setting causes the characters to endure cold temperatures. D. The setting causes the characters to have difficulty riding the horses.
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