Thursday, 18 April 2013


2. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
     "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is a  thought-provoking poem composed by Robert Frost. In this poem, the poet describes the conflict between love of nature and call of social responsibilities. 
     On a dark winter evening, the narrator stops his little horse to watch the snow falling in the woods. Finding that the owner of the woods is absent, her lingers his stay. At this his horse is confused. He shakes his harness bell to ask if there is some mistake. Now the narrator realizes the pull of obligations and the considerable distance before he can rest for the night. 
     In short, the poem trumpets the beauty of nature and hints at the need to carry on the daily affairs of life. The world of fantasy is very inviting. But one must maintain balance between the world of fantasy and reality.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Daffodils by Willaim Wordsworth

1. Daffodils
     "Daffodils" is a charming and fascinating poem composed by William Wordsworth. In this poem, the poet praises the beautiful objects of nature like breeze, waves and daffodils. 
     One day the poet was wandering alone along the side of a lake in a countryside. Suddenly he saw a large number of golden daffodils. These flowers were growing beside the lake, dancing in the breeze and stretching like the stars in the Milky Way. The waves of the lake were also dancing with joy but the daffodils surpassed them. The poet was much delighted to see this beautiful scene. 
     In the end the poet says that whenever he is in a thoughtful mood, the sight of the daffodils comes into his imagination and his heart is filled with pleasure. Thus a thing of beauty is a joy forever

Friday, 12 April 2013


10. Three Days to See
Paragraph No. 1
     Sometimes, I have thought that it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with gentleness, vigour, and a keenness of appreciation which is often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of "eat, drink, and be merry" but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death. 
Paragraph No. 2
     In stories, the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Paragraph No. 3
     Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I was given the use of my eyes, say for just three days.
Paragraph No. 4
     On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness, gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living.
Paragraph No. 5
     The next day -- the second day of sight -- I should arise with the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with the magnificent panorama of life with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
Paragraph No. 6
      This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscopic of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course?
Paragraph No. 7
     The following morning I should greet the dawn, anxious to discover, new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be perfectly new revelation of beauty. This according to the terms of my miracle is to be my third and last day of sight.
Paragraph No. 8
     I shall have no time to waste in regret for longing; there is so much to see. The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate. The second revealed to me the history of man and nature. Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life. And where can one find so many activities and conditions of men as in New York? So the city becomes my destination.
Paragraph No. 9
     Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently, I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, I asked her what she had observed. "Nothing in particular," she replied. I might have been incredulous, had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
Paragraph No. 10
     How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour in the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see can find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my lovingly hands about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough shaggy bark of a pine. In spring, I touched the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers. To me, a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips. 
Paragraph No. 11
     If I were the president of a university, I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awaken their dormant and sluggish faculties.