Learn English Lit.with Yaldrum

Learn English with Yaldrum

Types of Shell-Fish

*THE MIST BECKONS ME*

The mist beckons me.
To a realm cosy and free.
It's the familiar evening time.
My soul resonates with this mystifying rhyme.

The path isn't visible anymore.
It's now shrouded to the core.
But it's etched in my mind.
At each step sweet assurance I find.

By the time I reach home,
Deep in the bosom of the gloam,
My house would be obscured by the mist.
With the shadowy mountains in a secret tryst.

Enveloped by the thickening layers.
My soul inaudibly climbs imagination's stairs.
To reach a realm of tranquility true,
Like a lake shimmering under the blue.

Beyond criticism and judgement.
Under an unbiased firmament.
I will sit and weave a tale new.
Imagined only by a chosen few....

to a Grecian Urn
By John Keats:::

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden w**d;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Everything teachers need to know about Bloom's Taxonomy....

“All things bright and beautiful

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.



Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colors,

He made their tiny wings.



The purple-headed mountain,

The river running by,

The sunset and the morning

That brightens up the sky.



The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

The ripe fruits in the garden,

He made them every one.



He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we might tell,

How great is God Almighty,

Who has made all things well.



All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.”

~ Cecil Frances Alexander__

Metamorphosis is a novella written by Franz Kafka and first published in 1915. One of Kafka's best-known works, Metamorphosis tells the story of salesman Gregor Samsa, who wakes one morning to find himself inexplicably transformed into a huge insect and subsequently struggles to adjust to this new condition.

The novella has been widely discussed among literary critics, who have offered varied interpretations. In popular culture and adaptations of the novella, the insect is commonly depicted as a cockroach.

Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis is a story about what happens after Gregor Samsa becomes an insect overnight. One of the main themes of the story is isolation. After this remarkable metamorphosis, Gregor begins to feel alienated from his family.

This novella is not the kind of horror story you're thinking of – no monsters under the bed – but it is still a horror story. It is the story of a man who has become unrecognizable to himself and has become a burden to his family.

The Metamorphosis was banned under both the Soviet and N**i regimes, with the Soviet Union describing the story as 'decadent' and 'despairing'.

There is even hope that Grete will marry, which turns the ending of the narrative, after Gregor's death, in the direction of comedy. In sum, it is correct to say that The Metamorphosis contains elements of tragedy, but these elements are mixed with comedy and the absurd.

It's popularity has to do with its reflection on the human condition, and its deeply relatable cynicism. The main character is a dedicated man who, despite manifesting a great deal more of that virtue than those around him, seems to exist in a vacuum.

Grete is a young woman on the cusp of adulthood. She initially shows great concern for Gregor, but her compassion gives way to possessiveness and resentment as the effects of Gregor's transformation on her life slowly take their toll.

“'The Metamorphosis' — purported to be the fictional account of a man who turns into a large cockroach — is actually non-fiction,” according to a statement released by Mr. Kafka's editor, who spoke only on the condition that he be identified as E. “The story is true.