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5.05 English 3 FLVS
Transcript of 5.05 English 3 FLVS
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You have learned about multiple historical, cultural and literary influences in early 20th century America. You have also read several poems which are representative of early 20th century American literature.
Now you will take this information to create a presentation showcasing both of your chosen poems. You should have at least one image for each poem along with text explaining the ways in which the literary works were influenced by the events of the 20th century.
The Two Poems:
The Mending Wall by Robert Frost
Languages by Carl Sandburg
How did this relate to the 20th Century?
When I read this poem I catch symbols of differences between the two neighbors, although they are different they are still good to each other. I think demonstrates immigration and maybe several of the immigration laws that were passed and how each and every person that came to the United States in the 20th Century could easily point out their differences but challenge a friendship.
The Mending Wall
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
How does this relate to the 20th Century?
Let us think of some times in the 1900's where heritage and language and religion took a toll on the way life was...The Red Scare, Immigration Laws, Discrimination, Segregation, and even the KKK just to name a few. I believe that what Mr. Carl was trying to say, was to realize that what we do now is important to us but maybe not so important in a thousand years. I think that he wanted us to t a step back and enjoy what we have now and make the best of it. Make an impact on the way people look at things in a way that will be remembered many years from now just as the same wind has blown for thousands of years.
There are no handles upon a language
Whereby men take hold of it
And mark it with signs for its remembrance.
It is a river, this language,
Once in a thousand years
Breaking a new course
Changing its way to the ocean.
It is mountain effluvia
Moving to valleys And from nation to nation
Crossing borders and mixing.
Languages die like rivers.
Words wrapped round your tongue today.
Miranda Butterfield, Mrs. Pote
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
And broken to shape of thought
Between your teeth and lips speaking
Now and today
Shall be faded hieroglyphics
Ten thousand years from now.
Your song dies and changes
And is not here to-morrow
Any more than the wind
Blowing ten thousand years ago.