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Karnataka 2nd PUC English Streams Workbook Answers Poems for Comprehension
1. OZYMANDIAS
– Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said : two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the.desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
which yet survive, stamped on those lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Lock-on my works, ye Mighty, and despair I”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Answer the following questions in a word, phrase or a sentence.
Question 1.
Who did the speaker meet?
Answer:
A traveler from an antique land.
Question 2.
Where did the traveler come from?
Answer:
Antique land.
Question 3.
The one who reads the passions well is the
(a) speaker.
(b) traveler.
(c) sculptor.
Answer:
(c) sculptor.
2. PRAYER OF A BLACK BOY
– GuyTirolien
Lord, I am so tired.
Tired I entered this world.
Far have I wandered since the cock crew,
And the road to school is steep.
Lord, I do not want to go into their school,
Please help me that I need not go again.
I want to follow father into the cool gorges.
When the night is hovering over magic forests
Where spirits play before the dawn. Barefoot,
I want to tread the red-hot paths,
That boil in midday sun,
And then lie down to sleep beneath a Mango tree.
And I want to wake up only
When down there the white man’s siren starts to howl,
And the factory.
A ship on the sugar fields.
Lands and spits its crew,
Of black workers into the landscape.
Lord, I do not want to go into their school,
Please help me that I need not go again.
Answer the following questions in a word, phrase or a sentence each.
Question 1.
The speaker prays to
(a) the school teacher.
(b) the God.
(c) the white man.
Answer:
(b) the God.
Question 2.
The road to school is _______?
Answer:
Sleep.
Question 3.
What is it that the speaker does not want to do?
Answer:
He does not want to go into their school.
3. Play Things
– Rabindranath Tagore
Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken
twig all the morning !
I smile at your play with that little bit ofa broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think “What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!”
Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games.
I spend both my time and my strength over things I can never obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.
4. To the Cuckoo
– William Wordsworth
0 Blithe new-comer! I have heard,
1 hear thee and rejoice:
0 Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?
While I am lying on the grass
Thy two fold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.
Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
5. The Sea Turtle and the Shark
Strange but true is the story of the sea-turtle and the shark- The instinctive drive of the weak to survive in the oceanic dark.
Driven
riven
by hunger
from abyss to shoal,
Sometimes the shark swallows the sea-turtle whole.
The sly reptilian marine withdraws
into the shell
of his undersea craft,
his leathery head and the rapacious claws that can rip a rhinoceros hide Or strip
a crocodile to fare thee well now
inside the shark,
the sea-turtle begins the churning see saws
of his descent into pelagic hell
then ………………….. then,
with ravenous jaws
that can cut sheet steel scrap,
the sea-turtle gnaws
……………….. and gnaws …………………. and gnaws …………………
his way in a way that appalls
his way to freedom,
beyond the vomiting dark,
beyond the stomach walls
of the shark.
6. The Indian upon God
– W.B. Yeats
I passed along the waters’ edge below the humid trees.
My spirit rocked in the evening light, the rushes round my knees,
My spirit rocked in sleep and sighed and saw the moorfowl pace
All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase
Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak;
Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak
Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.
The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.
I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:
Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,
For I am in Hjs image made, and all this tinkling tide,
Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.
A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes
Brimful of starlight, and he said: The Stamper of the Skies,
He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He.
Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?
I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say:
Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay,
He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night
His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light.
7. Sonnet-29
– William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
8. Sonnet – 55
– William Shakespeare
Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme:
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room,
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.
9. The Reverie of Poor Susan
– William Wordsworth
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
“It is a note of enchantment; what ails her? she sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove’s
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!
10. The Road Not Taken
– Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth ;
Then took the other as just as fair,
And hiving perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black,
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less travelled by,
Arid that has made all the difference.
11. The Crutches
– Bertolt Brecht
Seven years I could not walk a step.
When I to the great physician came
He demanded: Why the crutches?
And I told him: I am lame.
He replied: That’s not surprising
Be so good and try once more.
If you’re lame, it’s these contraptions.
Fall then! Crawl across the floor!
And he took my lovely crutches
Laughing with a fiend’s grimace
Broke them both across my back and
Threw them in the fireplace.
Well, I’m cured now: I can walk.
Cured by nothing more than laughter.
Sometimes, though, when I see sticks
I walk worse for some hours after.
12. This Above all Precious and Remarkable
– John Wain
This above all is precious and remarkable,
How we put ourselves in one another’s care,
How in spite of everything we trust each other.
Fishermen at whatever point they are dipping and lifting
On the dark green swell they partly think of as home
Hear the gale warnings that fly to them like gulis.
The scientists study the weather for love of studying it,
And not especially for love of the fishermen,
And the wireless engineers do the transmission for love of wireless,
But how it adds up is that when the terrible white malice
Of the waves high as cliffs is let loose to seek a victim,
The fishermen are somewhere else and so not drowned.
And why should this chain of miracles be easier to believe
Than that my darling should come to me as naturally
As she trusts a restaurant not to poison her?
They are simply examples of well- known types of miracle,
The two of them,
That can happen at any time of the day or night.
13. Spring
– Sarojini Naidu
Young leaves grow green on the banyan twigs,
And red on the peepal tree,
The honey – birds pipe to the budding figs,
And honey blooms call the bee.
Poppies squander their fragile gold
In the silvery aloe-brake,
Coral and ivory lilies unfold
Their delicate lives on the lake.
Kingfishers ruffle the feathery sedge,
And all the vivid air thrills
With butterfly – wings in the wild – rose hedge,
And the luminous blue of the hills. ,
Kamala tinkles a lingering foot
In the grove where temple – bells ring,
And Krishna plays on his bamboo flute
An idyl of love and spring.
14. Leave this Chanting and Singing
– Rabindranath Tagore
Leave this chanting and singing and
telling of beads I Whom dost thou
worship in this lonely dark corner of a
temple with doors all shut? Open
thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee I
He is there where the tiller is tilling
the hard ground and where the pathmaker
is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and his
the garment is covered with dust. Put off –
thy holy mantle and even like him come
down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance? Where is this deliverance
to be found? Our master himself
has joyfully taken upon him the bonds
of creation; he is bound with us all forever.
Come out of meditations and
leave aside thy flowers and incense !
What harm is there if thy clothes
become tattered and stained? meet
him and stand by him stained? Meet
him and stand by him in toil and in the
sweat of thy brow.
15. The Wind in a Frolic
– William Howitt
But the wind had swept on-, and had met in a lane
With a schoolboy, who panted and Struggled in vain;
For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed – and he stood
With his hat in a pool, and his shoes in the mud!
Then away went the wind in its holiday glee,
And now it was far on the billowy sea:
And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow,
And the little boats darted to and from.
But lo! It was night, and it sank to rest
On the sea-birds’ rock in the gleaming west,
Laughing to think, in its frolicsome fun,
How IKtle of mischief it really had done.
16. What I See
– H. W. Longfellow
Behold! a giant am I!
Aloft here in my tower
With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, the wheat, and the rye,
And grind them into flour.
I look down over the farms;
In the fields of grain I see
The harvest that is to be,
And I fling aloft my arms.
For I know it is all for me.
17. Queen Mab
– Thomas Hood
A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings;
And from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her wand from right to left
And makes a circle round its head.
18. The Merry Mice
– Poet Unknown
The merry mice stay in their holes
And hide there all the day;
But when the house is still at night,
The rogues come out and play.
They climb upon the pantry shelf;
And taste of all they please;
They drink the milk that’s set for cream,
And nibble bread and cheese.
But if they chance to hear the cat,
Their feast will soon be done;
They scamper off to hide themselves
As fast as they can run.
19. The Cow
The friendly cow all red and white
I love with all my heart,
She gives me cream with all her might
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open-air,
The pleasant light of day.
And blown by all the winds that pass,
And wet with all the showers,
She walks amid the meadow grass,
And eats the meadow flowers.
20. Travel
– R.L Stevenson
I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow;
Where below another sky
Parrot islands anchored lie,
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely Crusoes building boats;
Where in sunshine reaching out
Eastern cities, miles about.
Are with a mosque-and minaret
Among sandy gardens set,
And the rich goods from near and far
Hand for sale in the bazaar.