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Title -. This makes me think about the grim reaper, so I would predict this poem has something to do with death. . Paraphrase - .
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Title - This makes me think about the grim reaper, so I would predict this poem has something to do with death. Paraphrase - Workers are in a field cutting down wheat or grass with large scythes. Horses are pulling larger mowers. A field rat tries to avoid the blades. I’m not sure if he dies or not. The workers don’t seem to notice anything, and they continue to cut the grass.
I notice the word ‘black’ twice in the poem which contributes to a dark feel. There is also a lot of alliteration with the ‘s’ sound. This might kind of mimic the swishing of the blades through the grass. I had to infer that hones must be sharpening rocks. The word “squealing” in line 6 has a really negative connotation that shows how desperate the rat is to survive. In line 3, the phrase “as a thing that’s done” has a matter-of-fact feeling that makes it seem like the workers do their job without really thinking about it. Language -
Attitude - The speaker seems to be an outside observer, perhaps a child watching. The tone comes across as more neutral or detached because the speaker doesn’t really have much of an emotional response to what he sees. Shift - There is a clear shift after line 5. At this point an element of danger enters the poem. Another shift occurs in the second half of line 7. Here things seem to go back to normal with the workers.
Title - The title is referring to the men harvesting or cutting the wheat or grass. It definitely has to do with death also because of the field rat. Theme - The message in this poem is that “Man’s progress does not stop for nature.” Without even knowing they may have killed the field rat, the men continue on with their work and destroy the home or “shade” of the field rat.
“Introduction To Poetry” -- Billy Collins I ask them to take a poemand hold it up to the light like a color slideor press an ear against its hive.I say drop a mouse into a poemand watch him probe his way out,or walk inside the poem's roomand feel the walls for a light switch. I want them to waterskiacross the surface of a poemwaving at the author's name on the shore.But all they want to dois tie the poem to a chair with ropeand torture a confession out of it.They begin beating it with a hoseto find out what it really means.
“Richard Cory” Whenever Richard Cory went down town,We people on the pavement looked at him:He was a gentleman from sole to crown,Clean favored, and imperially slim.And he was always quietly arrayed,And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said,'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -And admirably schooled in every grace:In fine, we thought that he was everythingTo make us wish that we were in his place.So on we worked, and waited for the light,And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,Went home and put a bullet through his head.