STANDARD - IX

PART 1 1

ENGLISH Sreelekshmi Ajith B.Ed English (Third semester) Candidate code: 16521375010 Millath College of Teacher Education, Sooranadu

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Unit at a Glance THE SCENT OF DEATH Prose: The Masque of the Red Death

- Edgar Allan Poe (Short Story)

The Story of an Hour

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Kate Chopin (Short Story)

Poem: Because I Could Not Stop For Death

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Emily Dickinson

Learning Outcomes By learning this unit, the learner will be able to: • read and understand a prose text. • enrich vocabulary by identifying the meanings of words from contexts. • refer to a dictionary or glossary to find out the meaning of unfamiliar words. • read, enjoy and appreciate poems. • communicate effectively in simple English. • enhance creative and critical thinking. • gather ideas on poetic craft and poetic devices. • construct language discourses like narrative, conversation, character sketch, story map, etc. • develop confidence through performance-based activities.

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If there is one thing we can be certain of in life, it’s that eventually we will die – that is, we will no longer be alive. Sadly we are not completely certain what “being dead” means: defining death is much more complicated than it appears, and it’s getting harder to define all the time. Below we’ve curated ten open-ended questions to get you thinking about death and the meaning of your life. Take your time and think about each one. This practice can be for your own personal enrichment or as a way to start organizing your thoughts for your end-of-life planning.

Ten Questions About Death 1. If I was to die today, what would I regret not doing? 2. How can I treasure life all the more knowing that I will someday die? 3. What does it mean to leave a legacy? 4. How would I like to be remembered? 5. Would I rather have more people at my wedding or at my funeral? Why?

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6. What would my last meal request be? 7. What will happen to my body when I die? Should I be cremated or buried? 8. What should my epitaph be? 9. What would others say about me, and what do I hope they would say? 10. How can I prepare for death and dying?

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I.

Read and reflect

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A disease known as the Red Death plagues the fictional country where this tale is set, and it causes its victims to die quickly and gruesomely. Let’s read a story….

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The Masque of the Red Death Edgar Allan Poe

THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour. But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death." It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven --an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long

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and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue --and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange --the fifth with white --the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet --a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all. It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

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But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm --much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these --the dreams --writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away --they have endured but an instant --and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But

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to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the bloodcolored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust. In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror. When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage. "Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him --"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him --that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"

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It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly --for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand. It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple --through the purple to the green --through the green to the orange --through this again to the white --and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form. And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

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About the author

Edgar Allan Poe, (born January 19, 1809, Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.—died October 7, 1849, Baltimore, Maryland), American short-story writer, poet, critic, and editor who is famous for his cultivation of mystery and the macabre. His tale ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ (1841) initiated the modern detective story, and the atmosphere in his tales of horror is unrivalled in American fiction. His ‘The Raven’ (1845) numbers among the bestknown poems in the national literature. The best known of these works include ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ (1841), ‘The Mystery of Marie Roget’ (1842), and ‘The Purloined Letter’ (1845). These three stories feature the character C.

Let’s revisit the story 1. What is the story ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ about? 2. Describe the masked guest’s costume. Why do you think he is dressed this way? What mood does this create? 3. What do the seven rooms symbolize in ‘The Masque of the Red Death?’ 4. How does Prince Prospero respond to the masked guest’s appearance? 5. What is the moral of ‘The Masque of the Red Death?’ 6. What happened at the end of ‘The Masque of the Red Death?’

Activity 1 Given below is the story board of the short story ‘The Masque of the Red Death’. Study the pictures carefully and write the appropriate events from the story in the space provided.

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………….……………………………………………… …………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………… …………………………………………………………

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Activity 2 Join the sentence parts appropriately so they make sense.

1. The mark of Red Death was

a) were red- a deep blood colour

2. The hangings in the seventh room

b) when he looked upon the

3. The red light coming through the

stranger

windows of the seventh room

c) the redness and the horror of

4. Prospero was first filled with terror and

blood

then with anger

d) made the dancers afraid.

Activity 3 Write answers of the following questions in your own words. 1. Is Prince Prospero a tragic hero, or a fool? What is his primary flaw? 2. What is the relationship between art and death in ‘The Masque of the Red Death?’ 3. Is ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ apocalyptic? Does it present a challenge to traditional ideas of the end of the world, or is it a fairly traditional vision itself?

Let’s enrich our vocabulary Activity 1 Read the sentences and choose which of the three option most nearly means the same as the underlined words. 1. No sickness had ever been so great a killer or so fearful to see as the Red Death. a. DEAD

b. DEADLY

c. DEADENING

2. Everyone was asked to come to a party dressed in fine clothes and with his eyes, or perhaps his whole face, covered by a piece of cloth.

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a.

MASK

b. MASH

c. MASQUERADE

3. When Prospero looked upon this fearful form, he was first filled with great fear and then with anger. a. TERROR

b. WONDER

c. TERRORISM

Activity 2 Write appropriate vocabulary words in the boxes given below.

Language activity You have studied how to use prepositions in the previous units. Now complete the sentences with correct prepositions. 1. 2. 3. 4.

The Red Death had long been feeding …… the country. There were seven rooms …… which Prospero’s friends danced. The dancers looked…… the forms that we might see in troubled dreams. He was covered ……head ……foot like a dead man prepared…… the grave. [ from, on, to, like, for, in]

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Let’s Write Activity 1 Prepare the character sketch of Prince Prospero.

Activity 2 Many thoughts must have passed through the mind of Prospero regarding the dangerous plague. Attempt a diary entry based on his thoughts.

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II.

Read and reflect

……………………………………………………………………………………... ➢ Kate Chopin’s short piece ‘The Story of an Hour’ is about a sickly wife who briefly believes her husband is dead and imagines a whole new life of freedom for herself. Let’s see what happens……… ……………………………………………………………………………………...

The Story of an Hour Kate Chopin

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.

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It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message. She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her. There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.

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She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams. She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought. There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the colour that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under the breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome. There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination. And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being! "Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering. Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."

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"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window. Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long. She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom. Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife. When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of the joy that kills.

About the author

Kate Chopin (February 8, 1850 – August 22, 1904), was an American author of short stories and novels based in Louisiana. She is considered as the forerunner of American 20thcentury feminist authors of Southern or Catholic background and she is one of the recognized writers of Louisiana Creole heritage. She is best known today for her 1899 novel The Awakening.

Let’s revisit 1. What is the significance of Mrs. Mallard’s “heart trouble”? 2. What is the significance of freedom in the story? How does the author portray this idea?

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3. Describe Mrs. Mallard’s reaction to the death of her husband. Why do you think she feels this way? 4. What does Richards represent in the story? 5. What does Josephine represent in the story? 6. What view of marriage is portrayed in the story? Can this view still apply today? 7. Describe Mrs. Mallard’s journey in the story.

Activity 1 Read the section and answer the questions. ▪

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death. 1. What news did they bring to Mrs. Mallard? They told Mrs. Mallard news of her husband’s _______________. 2. Why did they take great care to tell her? They took great care to tell her because she had a __________________. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------▪

It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. 1. Who told Mrs. Mallard the news of her husband’s death? _____________________told Mrs. Mallard the news. 2. Who was Mr. Richards? Mr. Richards was Mr. Mallard’s _____________. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------▪

It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of “killed.” 1. Who told Josephine the news that Mr. Mallard had died? _____________told Josephine the news. 2. Where was Richards when he heard the news? Richards was at the_______________________. 3. How did he find out Mr. Mallard had died? He found out Mr. Mallard had died by _______________________.

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Let’s enrich our vocabulary The Story of an Hour Vocabulary Chart Kate Chopin

Listed below are adjectives that describe the characters in The Story of an Hour. Find a sentence in the story that supports each adjective and copy it along with the corresponding line number(s) in the chart.

Character

Adjective

Mrs. Mallard

fragile

Richards

protective

Mrs. Mallard

hopeful

Josephine

concerned

Mr. Mallard

oblivious

Quote and Line Number(s)

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Let’s revisit and reflect Does ‘The Story of an Hour’ have an ironic ending? Write one or two examples from the text that support your answer. The Story of an Hour _______________ have an ironic ending. (does/does not) Example 1: ……………………………………………………………. Example 2: …………………………………………………………….

Let’s Write Activity 1 Consider you as a female character in the story ‘The Story of an Hour’ and write a letter to your friend telling your viewpoints regarding the changing roles and status of women in the country at the time.

Activity 2 Prepare the character sketch of Louise Mallard and Brently Mallard.

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III.

Read and enjoy

……………………………………………………………….. ➢ The central topic of the poem is the inevitability of death and the poet’s calm acceptance of it. Moreover, Dickinson projects her belief in the Christian afterlife and eternity in this poem. Now read and enjoy the poem ………………………………………………………………..

Because I Could Not Stop for Death Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility –

We passed the school, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the setting Sun –

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Or rather – He passed Us – The Dews drew quivering and Chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –

About the author

Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830–May 15, 1886) was an American poet best known for her eccentric personality and her frequent themes of death and mortality. Although she was a prolific writer, only a few of her poems were published during her lifetime.

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Let’s revisit 1. Why is death called a civil suitor ? ……………………………………………………………………………. ……………………………………………………………………………. 2. What does the poet do in return to his civility ? ……………………………………………………………………………. ……………………………………………………………………………. 3. Describe the scenes witnessed by the poet as the carriage progressed through its last ride. ……………………………………………………………………………. …………………………………………………………………………….

4. How does the poet give the theme of death an erotic touch? ……………………………………………………………………………. …………………………………………………………………………….

5. Where does the carriage stop? …………………………………………………………………………… ……………………………………………………………………………

6. Where does the poet think of her new house as her grave? ………………………………………………………………………….. …………………………………………………………………………..

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7. Explain how the poem ends in ambiguity? ………………………………………………………………………….. …………………………………………………………………………..

8. How does the poet present the metaphor of a funeral as the marital procession to eternity? ……………………………………………………………………………..

Activity 1 Identify the poetic devices from the poem ‘Because I Could Not Stop For Death’

POETIC DEVICES

DESCRIPTION

EXAMPLE

Giving human-like characteristics "Death…He kindly stopped for me - " to non-human objects or abstract Making Death seem like a person, stopping to ideas pick her up. Repetition of consonant sounds at "Dews” & “Drew”, “Gossamer” & “Gown”, the beginnings of words in a “Tippet” & “Tulle" sentence or line Words at the end of a line that rhyme with words at the end of other lines.

"me” & “Immortality”

An implied comparison between two things

In the poem, Dickinson states that they pass the “Setting Sun”. This is a common symbol to describe the end of a person’s life.

Activity 2 Identify recurring themes in the poem ‘Because I Could Not Stop for Death’

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