Close LookLittle Things
Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land. Thus the little minutes, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. by Ebenezer Cobhan Brewer |
Answer the questions or complete the tasks:
1. Circle the rhyming words. 2. How many times is the word ‘the’ used? 3. What is the longest word in the poem? 4. Read the poem aloud as a class. When you read, stand up for capital letters, hop for commas and sit down for full stops. 5. Name 3 different words that are repeated in the poem. 6. Which words do I have wrong? (There are 5 wrong words.) |
Point of View
Little snail,
Dreaming you go. Weather and rose Is all you know. Weather and rose Is all you see Drinking The dewdrop's Mystery. by Langston Hughes |
Answer the questions:
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Learn more about snails.
Click into the link below for information on keeping snails as pets!
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What do you Think?
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PredictionStopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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. by Robert Frost |
Answer the questions:
1. Who do you think owns these woods? 2. Do you think the speaker is being secretive about the person? 3. Why might the speaker be thinking about where this person is? 4. Where do you think the speaker has come from? Where do you think he is going? 5. Why is the speaker so drawn to the cold, deserted woods? |
Super and SimpleThe Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens by William Carlos Williams |
Answer the questions:
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As a class, talk about these pictures and photographs.
My Favourite Thing
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Dear Mug
Dear mug. Sweet, lovely mug. Remember that November night? I held you in my frozen hands and you Were filled with hot and silky chocolate The smoky sky was splashed with fire and exploding stars We hugged I loved your glorious design by Gaudi. Green and gold Mosaics. All my other mugs had boring patterns, Flowers, slogans, grey and nondescript. They were jealous. Alas, I left you perched upon the car. And at the traffic lights you fell And smashed. I’m sorry, mug. I miss you, mug. Farewell. by Roger Stevens |
Questions
Eating Poetry
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry. The librarian does not believe what she sees. Her eyes are sad and she walks with her hands in her dress. The poems are gone. The light is dim. The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up. Their eyeballs roll, their blond legs burn like brush. The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep. She does not understand. When I get on my knees and lick her hand, she screams. I am a new man. I snarl at her and bark. I romp with joy in the bookish dark. by Mark Strand |
Questioning empowers you!
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You Explain
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
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 leaves in glee; A poet could not be but 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. by William Wordsworth |
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Compare
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Song
I had a little nut tree, Nothing would it bear But a silver nutmeg And a golden pear; The King of Spain's daughter Came to visit me, And all for the sake Of my little nut tree. Her dress was made of crimson, Jet black was her hair, She asked me for my nutmeg And my golden pear. I said, "So fair a princess Never did I see, I'll give you all the fruit From my little nut tree." Anon. |
Words, Words
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Daddy Fell into the Pond
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey. We had nothing to do and nothing to say. We were nearing the end of a dismal day, And there seemed to be nothing beyond, THEN Daddy fell into the pond! And everyone's face grew merry and bright, And Timothy danced for sheer delight. "Give me the camera, quick, oh quick! He's crawling out of the duckweed." Click! Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee, And doubled up, shaking silently, And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft And it sounded as if the old drake laughed. O, there wasn't a thing that didn't respond WHEN Daddy fell into the pond! by Alfred Noyes |