Learning Targets: I can cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text, including determining where the text leaves matters uncertain.
I can determine two or more themes or central ideas of a text and analyze their development over the course of the text.
I can analyze the impact of the author's choices regarding how to develop and relate elements of a story or drama.
I can determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in the text, including figurative and connotative meanings; analyze the impact of specific word choices on meaning and tone, including words with multiple meanings or language that is particularly fresh, engaging, or beautiful.
All information is on the blog everyday. You are responsible for missed work; that includes any notebook writing. You may, of course, simply send it in. (Thank you to those who do that.)
Ninth period has a management grade. If you are excused, it is naturally because you were not in class. The same procedure is continuing: on time, no food, no repeated side conversations, no sleeping. The comments are on parent connect.
Today and tomorrow we are reading The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes and Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. (class handout / copy below); new vocabulary on above poems (class handout / copy below)
Coming up: Friday Assessment questions based upon the texts that follow. You will have access to your notes for the assessment this Friday.
Wednesday, January 9 vocabulary quiz
Review of subject / verb agreement exercise.
Common errors
1. One of my sisters (is / are) going on a trip to France.
2. All of the CDs, even the scratched one, (are / is) in this case.
3. The Prime Minister, together with his wife, (greet/ greets) the press cordially.
4. Nobody (know / knows) the trouble I've seen.
5. Everyone of those books (is / are) fiction.
Annabel Lee
It was
many and many a year ago,
In
a kingdom by the sea,
That a
maiden there lived whom you may know
By
the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden
she lived with no other thought
Than
to love and be loved by me.
I was
a child and she was a child,
In
this kingdom by the sea,
But we
loved with a love that was more than love—
I
and my Annabel Lee—
With a
love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted
her and me.
And this
was the reason that, long ago,
In
this kingdom by the sea,
A wind
blew out of a cloud, chilling
My
beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that
her highborn kinsmen came
And
bore her away from me,
To shut
her up in a sepulchre
In
this kingdom by the sea.
The
angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went
envying her and me—
Yes!—that
was the reason (as all men know,
In
this kingdom by the sea)
That the
wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling
and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our
love it was stronger by far than the love
Of
those who were older than we—
Of
many far wiser than we—
And
neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor
the demons down under the sea
Can ever
dissever my soul from the soul
Of
the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the
moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of
the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the
stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of
the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so,
all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of
my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In
her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
The Highwayman
PART ONE
The wind
was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon
was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road
was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the
highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The
highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He’d a
French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his
chin,
A coat of
the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They
fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he
rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His
pistol butts a-twinkle,
His
rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the
cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped
with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He
whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting
there
But the
landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess,
the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting
a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark
in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim
the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes
were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he
loved the landlord’s daughter,
The
landlord’s red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a
dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
“One
kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I
shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if
they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look
for me by moonlight,
Watch
for me by moonlight,
I’ll come
to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
He rose
upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she
loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the
black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he
kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O,
sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he
tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
PART TWO
He did
not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out
of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the
road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A
red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King
George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said
no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they
gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them
knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was
death at every window;
And
hell at one dark window;
For Bess
could see, through her casement, the road that he would
ride.
They had
tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had
bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
“Now,
keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—
Look
for me by moonlight;
Watch
for me by moonlight;
I’ll
come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She
twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She
writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or
blood!
They
stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years
Till,
now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold,
on the stroke of midnight,
The tip
of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip
of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she
stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would
not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the
road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank
and bare in the moonlight;
And the
blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.
Tlot-tlot;
tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing
clear;
Tlot-tlot;
tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the
ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The
highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The red
coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.
Tlot-tlot, in the
frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing
night!
Nearer he
came and nearer. Her face was like a light.
Her eyes
grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her
finger moved in the moonlight,
Her
musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered
her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
He
turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed,
with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
Not till
the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess,
the landlord’s daughter,
The
landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had
watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he
spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the
white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
Blood red
were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they
shot him down on the highway,
Down
like a dog on the highway,
And he
lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
.
. .
And
still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When
the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When
the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A
highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A
highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over
the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.
He
taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and
barred.
He
whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting
there
But
the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess,
the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
*************************************************************************
Annabel Lee and The Highwayman vocabulary
Quiz on Wednesday, January 9
1. seraphs (noun)
type of angels
2. to covet (verb) to desire or crave
3. sepulcher (noun) tomb
4. to dissever (verb) to separate
5. itinerant (adjective)- travelling
from one place to another
6. galleon (noun_ a large sailing ship of the 1400's-1600's
7. moor
(noun) area of open rolling wild land, usually a grassy wetland
8. rapier (noun) long lightweight sword
9. hilt (noun) handle of a sword or rapier
10.
to
plait (verb) to braid
11.
ostler
or hostler (noun) caretaker of the horses
12.
to
harry (verb) to trouble, bother, or
worr
13.
tawny
(adjective) brownish gold color
14.
red
coat troop soldiers of King George
during the late 18th century
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