d still,english essay
the naughiest thing that i have ever done in my life
my name is sandhya.v from 9th b.I wold like to shair the naughiest thing that i have ever done in my life .When I was in 7th iI was in my old school named 'ST FRANCIS XAVIERS GIRLS HIGHT SCHOOL'.Then after7th,in8thstandard i had joined another school named 'CHINMAYA VIDYALAYA'.when i joint this school i dint know much about the school very well ,I just knew that it was a co-ed and a dicaplined school I was really embarresed that i am going to study in a co-ed school because in the previous school I had studied in girls school one of the teacher saw me standing she called me and told to join the assembly line where all the students stood according to their classes then i stood behind my class and their they condected many prayers and slokas that was also new to me because in my previous school I had studied in the christians school and now studing in hindus school .Then in this school i had to chaing myself according to the surroundings .Then suddenly one day i had forgotten to do my kannada project and stick the map based on the project in our note book. As soon as i entered my school i ask my friends what shall i do my friends told me to go to the near by shop and buy a map i just forgot every thing around me and asked my friend weather she could come with me to the shop beacause our kannada teacher was really strict so my friend and me had gone to the near by shop then we asked the shop keeper a map he told it might take a few minutes to check and say weather the map was there so we waited still he checked but unfortunately my bad luck the map was not there so we had to go to a nother shop which was a bit far and we asked for the map it took 20 minutes for the shop keeper to search for the map but only 10 minutes was left for the bell to ring so my friend and myself was really embarrese because we thought the bell might ring before we could go than after 15 minutes we had reached the school but the bell was already gone before we could go but when we were entering the school the watchman was not there when we had gone inside the school so we taught to run to our class but our school P.T master and MISS had seen us and asked where did we go we just had to bluff because we was really scrade the principle might sold at us the same thing the p.t sir told us that we had to talk to the principle and go to the class since the principle was bussy we had to wait outside the head mistress room for at list 30 minutes then the principle told us to come inside and asked us where did we go then we had to say the truth to our principle and then she said we were not supporse to go out of the school after we enter the school once then we did not know what to reply .Then she asked question based on the project in that tension we could not say the answer so she shoutes at us and said next time we are not suppose to do that so we said sorry to her and went back to our class i thought she had a bad inpression on me because i was the one new to the school .After 1 week we had a G.K competation so the principle on;y came to our cass and asked for the names who wanted to participate then every one said their names and even i also said .Then i had a dout weather we had to bring a letter for that and asked the principle about it she said in kind and pilite words we had to bring a willing letter from my father so that time i realized that i had done the wrong thing
Guru is the God, say the scriptures. Indeed, the 'guru' in Vedic tradition is looked upon as one no less than a God. 'Guru' is a honorific designation of a preceptor as defined and explained variously in the scriptures and ancient literary works including epics. The English word 'guru' has its etymological origin in the Sanskrit term. The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Current English defines it as "Hindu spiritual teacher or head of religious sect; influential teacher; revered mentor".
“Virtue” is one of the poems in a collection of verse called The Temple (1633), which George Herbert wrote during the last three years of his life. By then, he had taken holy orders in the Anglican Church and become rector in Bemerton, England, near Salisbury. Herbert's poems are lyrical and harmonious, reflecting the gentle voice of a country parson spreading the Christian message. He appreciates the beauty of creation not only for its own sake but also because he sees it as a mirror of the goodness of the Creator. Yet, despite Herbert's sense of the world's loveliness, his poems often reflect the transience of that beauty and the folly of investing it with any real value. In “Virtue,” he presents a vision of an eternal world beyond the one available to sense perception.
Line by line explanation
The circle of life pertains to all living things, including plants, animals, and humans. All things grow from virtually nothing into fully realized beings, and then they eventually grow older and die. This is a natural process. In George Hebert’s Virtue, the author evokes nature imagery as a metaphor for the circle of life. By comparing human life to the day, roses, spring and timber, Hebert makes a statement about how life and death are connected to one another, and about how this cycle is part of nature itself.
The first stanza is the poet author’s opinion of the day. This day is idyllic - he describes it as being “so cool, so calm, so bright”. With a few carefully chosen words Hebert allows the audience to envision a grand, unfolding landscape of trees, grass and puffy clouds as the sun glimmers in the midday sky. This is Hebert’s view of life. It is like the perfect day - bright, calm, and ideal. The day is so perfect, in fact, that it is “the bridal of the earth and sky”. Hebert compares the day to a joyous occasion – a wedding (ideally, a joining of two well-suited partners - in this case the earth and sky). Weddings are a part of the circle of life for many people. The small droplets of dew on the grass and plants can easily be compared to tears. The tears of “dew” are an appropriate transition from the joyous “bridal” of the day (tears of joy are common at weddings) to the “fall to-night”, as the fall to-night symbolizes death (tears are also quite common at funerals). Night is the natural opposite day, as death is the opposite of life.
The second stanza utilizes plant imagery to reinforce the life and death cycle. The rose is easily pictured in one’s mind, with its red petals and green, thorny stem. Hebert does not state that the flower is red, but the audience knows this by the description of the hue being “angry and brave”. These are qualities typically associated with the colour red. This rose commands the viewer to “wipe his eye”. The beauty of the rose is undeniable. However, “thy root is ever in its grave” implies that everything, even the beautiful rose, eventually withers and dies. The plants grow from the soil, and everything, including human beings, return to the soil after death. This implies that all life is connected (or “rooted”) to death.
The third stanza states that spring
is “full of sweet days and roses”. Spring encompasses all those things previously mentioned by the poet author. The days of spring are calm and bright. Spring is typically a time of rebirth, where plants (such as roses) and trees begin to grow again after their deaths in the winter, and animals come out of hibernation and start reproducing. The seasons are therefore representative of the circle of life. Spring implies birth and new life, however, spring always turns into summer, and then fall, and then finally winter, when all the plants die and animals go into hibernation.
The final stanza compares the “sweet and virtuous” soul to “seasoned timber”. Trees, while living, are constantly expanding and growing, while giving off seeds for new trees. However, the reference to the dried timber implies that the tree is already dead. The soul lives on after the body is dead, and trees live on after they are dead as the timber that we use. It is a different incarnation of the same substance, just as the soul is a different incarnation of humanity.
Day always turns to night. Seeds grow into beautiful flowers and then always wither and die. Spring always turns to summer, then fall, and finally winter. Trees live on after they die as the lumber we use to build things with. All living things will eventually die. Hebert’s Virtue implies, however, that the soul lives on after death, just as timber does. This reflection on the circle of life celebrates the joy of life despite an awareness of impending death, and positively reinforces that in some incarnation, life may continue after death.
Implicit in “Virtue” is a delicately expressed struggle between rebellion and obedience. The understated conflict lies between the desire to experience worldly pleasures and the desire—or as Herbert would insist, the need—to surrender to the will of God. The battle waged between rebellion and obedience can be seen more clearly in one of the best-known poems in The Temple, “The Collar.” Therein, the poet “raves” against the yoke of submission that he must bear until he hears the voice of God call him “child”; then, he submissively yields, as the poem ends with the invocation “My Lord!” This conclusion indicates that what the narrator feels about the experience of the natural world is of less authenticity than an inner voice of authority that directs him toward God.
Herbert's poetry displays a conjunction of intellect and emotion. Carefully crafted structures, like the first three quatrains, or four-line stanzas, of “Virtue,” all of which are similarly formed, contain sensuously perceived content, like depictions of daytime, nightfall, a rose, and spring. Such a combination of intellect and emotion, in which the two forces, expressed in bold metaphors and colloquial language, struggle with and illuminate each other, is most apparent in the poetry of one of Herbert's contemporaries, John Donne, and is called metaphysical poetry. In “Virtue,” an example of this combination of the intellectual and the sensuous can be seen in the second line of the third quatrain, when the spring is compared to a box of compressed sweets.
In “Virtue,” which comprises four quatrains altogether, Herbert reflects on the loveliness of the living world but also on the reality of death. Building momentum by moving from the glory of a day to the beauty of a rose to the richness of springtime, while reiterating at the end of each quatrain that everything “must die,” Herbert leads the reader to the last, slightly varied quatrain. There, the cherished thing is not a tangible manifestation of nature but the intangible substance of “a sweet and virtuous soul.” When all else succumbs to death, the soul “then chiefly lives.” Not through argument but through an accumulation of imagery, Herbert contrasts the passing glories of the mortal world with the eternal glory of the immortal soul and thereby distinguishes between momentary and eternal value.
“Virtue” and many other poems from The Temple can be found in Seventeenth-Century Prose and Poetry, edited by Alexander M. Witherspoon and Frank J. Warnke and published by Harcourt, Brace & World, in 1963.
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The eldest son of author Peter George Patmore, Coventry was born at Woodford in Essex. He was privately educated. He was also his father's intimate and constant companion and inherited from him his early literary enthusiasm. It was Coventry's ambition to become an artist. He showed much promise, earning the silver palette of the Society of Arts in 1838. In the following year he was sent to school in France for six months, where he began to write poetry. After returning, his father planned to publish some of these youthful poems; Coventry, however, had become interested in science and the poetry was set aside.
He soon returned to literary interests, moved towards them by the sudden success of Alfred Lord Tennyson; and in 1844 he published a small volume of Poems, which was original but uneven. Patmore, distressed at its reception, bought up the remainder of the edition and destroyed it. What upset him most was a cruel review in Blackwood's Magazine; but the enthusiasm of his friends, together with their more constructive criticism, helped foster his talent. The publication of this volume bore immediate fruit in introducing its author to various men of letters, including Dante Gabriel Rossetti, through whom Patmore became known to William Holman Hunt, and was thus drawn into the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, contributing his poem "The Seasons" to The Germ.
At this time Patmore's father was financially embarrassed; and in 1846 Richard Monckton Milnes, 1st Baron Houghton obtained for Coventry the post of assistant librarian in the British Museum, a post he occupied for nineteen years, devoting his spare time to poetry. In 1847 he married Emily, daughter of Dr. Andrews of Camberwell. At the Museum he was instrumental in 1852 in starting the Volunteer movement. He wrote an important letter to The Times upon the subject, and stirred up much martial enthusiasm among his colleagues.
In the next year he republished, in Tamerton Church Tower, the more successful pieces from the Poems of 1844, adding several new poems which showed distinct advance, both in conception and treatment; and in the following year (1854) appeared the first part of his best known poem, The Angel in the House, which was continued in "The Espousals" (1856), "Faithful for Ever" (1860), and "The Victories of Love" (1862). In 1862 he lost his wife, after a long and lingering illness, and shortly afterwards joined the Roman Catholic church.
In 1865 he married again, his second wife being Marianne Byles, daughter of James Byles of Bowden Hall, Gloucester; and a year later purchased an estate in East Grinstead, the history of which he wrote in How I managed my Estate (1886). In 1877 appeared The Unknown Eros, which unquestionably contains his finest work in poetry[1], and in the following year Amelia, his own favourite among his poems, together with an interesting essay on English Metrical Law. This departure into criticism continued in 1879 with a volume of papers entitled Principle in Art, and again in 1893 with Religio poetae. His second wife died in 1880, and in the next year he married Harriet Robson. In later years he lived at Lymington, where he died. He was buried in Lymington churchyard.[2]
A collected edition of his poems appeared in two volumes in 1886, with a characteristic preface which might serve as the author's epitaph. "I have written little," it runs; "but it is all my best; I have never spoken when I had nothing to say, nor spared time or labour to make my words true. I have respected posterity; and should there be a posterity which cares for letters, I dare to hope that it will respect me." The obvious sincerity which underlies this statement, combined with a certain lack of humour which peers through its naïveté, points to two of the principal characteristics of Patmore's earlier poetry; characteristics which came to be almost unconsciously merged and harmonized as his style and his intention drew together into unity.
His best work is found in the volume of odes called The Unknown Eros, which is full not only of passages but of entire poems in which exalted thought is expressed in poetry of the richest and most dignified melody. Spirituality informs his inspiration; the poetry is glowing and alive. The magnificent piece in praise of winter, the solemn and beautiful cadences of "Departure," and the homely but elevated pathos of "The Toys," are in their manner unsurpassed in English poetry. His somewhat reactionary political opinions, which also find expression in his odes, are perhaps a little less inspired, although they can certainly be said to reflect, as do his essays, a serious, and very active, mind. Patmore is today one of the least known, but best-regarded Victorian poets.
The Angel in the House is a long narrative and lyric poem, with four sections composed over a period of years: The Betrothed and The Espousals (1854), which eulogize his first wife; Faithful For Ever (1860); and The Victories of Love (1862), the four published together in 1863. Together they came to symbolise the Victorian feminine ideal, which was not necessarily an ideal among feminists of the time.
His son, Henry John Patmore (1860-1883), was also a poet.
Your English Teacher
Ooooooh Wooooooh
Give me freedom, give me fire, give me reason, take me higher
See the champions, take the field now, you define us, make us feel proud
In the streets our heads are lifting, as we lose our inhibition,
Celebration its around us, every nations, all around us
Singing forever young, singing songs underneath that sun
Lets rejoice in the beautiful game.
And together at the end of the day.
WE ALL SAY
When I get older I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
When I get older I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom
Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
Oooooooooooooh woooooooooohh hohoho
Give you freedom, give you fire, give you reason, take you higher
See the champions, take the field now, you define us, make us feel proud
In the streets our heads are lifting, as we lose our inhibition,
Celebration, its around us, every nations, all around us
Singing forever young, singing songs underneath that sun
Lets rejoice in the beautiful game.
And together at the end of the day.
WE ALL SAY
When I get older, I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom
Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
When I get older I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom
Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
Wooooooooo Ohohohoooooooo ! OOOoooooh Wooooooooo
WE ALL SAY !
When I get older I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom
Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
When I get older I will be stronger
They’ll call me freedom
Just like a wavin’ flag
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes
Wooo hooooo hohohohoooooo
And everybody will be singing it
Wooooooooo ohohohooooo
And we are all singing it……!
I wrote this poem for my favorite English teacher Sharon madam Jyoti Nivas College.
Lincoln’s Letter to his Son’s Teacher
Respected Teacher,
My son will have to learn I know that all men are not just, all men are not true. But teach him also that for ever scoundrel there is a hero; that for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader. Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend.
It will take time, I know; but teach him, if you can, that a dollar earned is far more valuable than five found.
Teach him to learn to lose and also to enjoy winning.
Steer him away from envy, if you can.
Teach him the secret of quite laughter. Let him learn early that the bullies are the easiest to tick.
Teach him, if you can, the wonder of books.. but also give him quiet time to ponder over the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on a green hill –side.
In school teach him it is far more honourable to fail than to cheat.
Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if every one tells him they are wrong.
Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with the tough.
Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when every one is getting on the bandwagon.
Teach him to listen to all men but teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth and take only the good that comes through.
Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he is sad. Teach him there is no shame in tears. Teach him to scoff at cynics and to beware of too much sweetness.
Teach him to sell his brawn and brain to the highest bidders; but never to put a price tag on his heart and soul.
Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob… and to stand and fight if he thinks he’s right.
Treat him gently; but do not cuddle him because only the test of fire makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage to be impatient, let him have the patience to be brave. Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself because then he will always have sublime faith in mankind.
This is a big order; but see what you can do. He is such a fine little fellow, my son.
Abraham Lincoln
