Revision for English Lit Y10 Mock
Letters from Yorkshire
âitâs you // who sends me word of that other world // pouring air and light into an envelopeâ
âIs your life more real because you dig and sow?â
âour souls tap out messages across the icy milesâ
âhis knuckles singing⊠as they reddened in the warmthâ
âme with my heartful of headlines // feeding words onto a blank screenâ
âhe saw the first lapwings returnâ
Singh Song!
âven nobody in, I do di lock - // cos up di stairs is me newly brideâ
âmy bride // she effing at my mumâ
âtiny eyes of a gun // and di tummy ov a teddyâ
âFrom di stool each night I say, // Is priceless baby -â
âdi worst Indian shop // on di whole Indian road -â
Neutral Tones
âWe stood by a pond that winter dayâ
âThe sun was white, as though chidden by Godâ
âtedious riddles of years agoâ
âthe smile on your mouth was the deadest thingâ
âkeen lessons that love deceivesâ
âthey had fallen from an ash and were greyâ
When We Two Parted
âsilence and tearsâ
âPale grew thy cheek and cold, // colder thy kiss;â
âThy vows are all broken,â
âA knell in mine earâ
âWhy wert thou so dear?â
âthy heart could forget, // thy spirit deceive.â
Winter Swans
âwaterlogged earth // gulping for breathâ
âwe skirted the lake, silent and apartâ
âlike boats righting in rough weatherâ
âporcelain over the stilling waterâ
âslow-stepping in the lakeâs shingle and sandâ
âswum the distance between usâ
âlike a pair of wings settling after flightâ
Loveâs Philosophy
âThe fountains mingle with the river// And the rivers with the Oceanâ
âwinds of heaven mix for everâ
âa law divineâ
âmixâ
âclaspsâ
âkissâ
âwhat are all these kissings worth, // If thou kiss not me?â
Sonnet 29
âI think of thee! - my thoughts do twine and budâ
âas wild vine, about a treeâ
âRenew thy presenceâ
âbareâ
âlet these bands of greenery which insphere thee // Drop heavily down, - burst, shattered, everywhere!â
âhides the woodâ
Porphyriaâs Lover
âheart fit to breakâ
âshe shut the cold out and the stormâ
âlet the damp hair fallâ
âshe put my arm about her waistâ
âher yellow hairâ
âtoo weak⊠to set its struggling passion freeâ
âfrom pride and vainer ties dissever, // And give herself to me foreverâ
âPorphyria worshipped meâ
âshe was mine, mine, fair, // Perfectly pure and goodâ
âI am quite sure she felt no painâ
âsmiling rosy little headâ
âHer darling one wish sould be heardâ
âyet God has not said a wordâ
The Farmerâs Bride
âI chose a maidâ
âtâwasnât a woman - // more like a little frightened fay.â
âlike the shut of a winterâs dayâ
âwe chased her, flying like a hareâ
âwe caught her, fetched her home at last // And turned the keyâ
âThe berries redden up to Christmas-timeâ
âBut what to me?â
âOh! My God!â
âher eyes, her hair, her hairâ