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IGCSE Cambridge English Literature 2016

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IGCSE English LiteraturePaper 1 Section B

The Study of Poetry: Thomas Hardy

You will sit this exam in May in the same exam as prose. The exam is one hour 30 minutes, so you should spend 45 minutes on poetry.

Assessment: AO1 Content AO2 Meanings and Context AO3 Writers Methods AO4 Communication

Contents

SpecificationGlossaryThomas Hardy BiographyPoemsNeutral TonesI Look into My GlassOn the Departure PlatformThe Darkling ThrushDrummer HodgeThe Pine PlantersThe GoingThe VoiceThe Convergence of the TwainIn Time of the Breaking NationsAt the Word FarewellDuring Wind and RainNobody ComesNo Buyers: A Street Scene

SpecificationBreakdown of the time for Paper One: Section AProseSpend 45 mins on this section.

Section BPoetrySpend 45 mins on this section.

Section B: PoetrySection B is worth 25% of your IGCSE, and it allows you to demonstrate your ability to respond critically and imaginatively to a poetry anthology. You must answer one of two questions about Thomas Hardy.

Both poems will be printed in the exam.

Below are rough (estimate) grade boundaries for this unit: Grade/25

A*16

A14

B12

C10

D8

E6

F4

G2

U0

Glossary of useful poetic terms

TechniqueDefinition/ExampleEffect

AlliterationReputational consonant sounds usually at the beginning of words.To provide emphasis.

Anthropomorphism Attributing human motivation, characteristics and behaviour to animals. Creates a more imaginative and philosophical (logical) tone. Also, more relatable to the reader.

AntithesisA comparison. Pieces together complete opposites to create a dramatic effect makes the original subject seem more important.

AssonanceThe repetition or a pattern of the same vowel soundsProvides emphasis.

CaesuraA pause or breathing space in the middle of a line of a poem. To give the poem a natural break, to introduce an idea or to emphasise a change in tone. Usually signalled by a colon or semi-colon.

ConnotationAn idea or feeling which a word invokes for a person in addition to its literal meaning. To offer up various understandings of the poem in relation to how you perceive a line or word.

EnjambementA continuing line which has no commas or full stops. Often flows into next line or stanza. Keeps the poem moving forward and often helps soften the poems rhyme scheme.

HyperboleExtreme exaggeration for effect.To emphasise a particular point.

ImageryThe use of pictures, figures of speech.Evokes ideas, feelings and objects.

JuxtapositionA technique that places two unassociated things beside each other.Creates an effect of surprise.

MetaphorA figure of speech in which two things are compared, usually by saying one thing is anotherCreate mental imagery.

OnomatopoeiaA figure of speech in which words are used to imitate sounds.Creates a sense of emotion.

ParadoxA contradiction. Used to make the reader think.

ParenthesisA word or phrase inserted in brackets into a text as an explanation or afterthought. To explain a thought or further it slightly.

Pathetic FallacyWhen nature is used to represent human emotionTo reflect mood.

PersonificationA figure of speech in which non-human things are given human attributesCreates a more imaginative and philosophical (logical) tone. Also, more relatable to the reader.

Rhyming CoupletA pair of lines that are the same length and rhyme to form a complete thought.Add a sense of repetition to reinforce a specific idea.

SibilanceRepetition of S sounds. Creates emphasis.

SimileA figure of speech in which two things are compared using the word like or asCreates mental imagery for the reader.

Synaesthesia The fusing together of two senses.Often creates a crescendo (increased intensity).

When describing the poets use of the senses use the following terms: Visual imagery sense of sight Olfactory imagery sense of smell Tactile imagery sense of touch Auditory imagery sense of hearing Gustatory imagery sense of taste Stanza: two or more lines of poetry that together form one of the divisions of a poem (like a paragraph): Tercet three lined stanza Quatrain four lined stanza Sestet six lined stanza Septet seven lined stanza Octave eight lined stanza Sonnet fourteen lined stanza / poem

Thomas Hardy Biography

Thomas Hardy was born June 2, 1840, in the village of Upper Bockhampton, located in Southwestern England. His father was a stone mason and a violinist. His mother enjoyed reading and relating all the folk songs and legends of the region. Between his parents, Hardy gained all the interests that would appear in his novels and his own life: his love for architecture and music, his interest in the lifestyles of the country folk, and his passion for all sorts of literature.

At the age of eight, Hardy began to attend Julia Martin's school in Bockhampton. However, most of his education came from the books he found in Dorchester, the nearby town. He learned French, German, and Latin by teaching himself through these books. At sixteen, Hardy's father apprenticed his son to a local architect, John Hicks. Under Hicks' tutelage, Hardy learned much about architectural drawing and restoring old houses and churches. Hardy loved the apprenticeship because it allowed him to learn the histories of the houses and the families that lived there. Despite his work, Hardy did not forget his academics: in the evenings, Hardy would study with the Greek scholar Horace Moule.

In 1862, Hardy was sent to London to work with the architect Arthur Blomfield. During his five years in London, Hardy immersed himself in the cultural scene by visiting the museums and theaters and studying classic literature. He even began to write his own poetry. Although he did not stay in London, choosing to return to Dorchester as a church restorer, he took his newfound talent for writing to Dorchester as well.

From 1867, Hardy wrote poetry and novels, though the first part of his career was devoted to the novel. At first he published anonymously, but when people became interested in his works, he began to use his own name. Like Dickens, Hardy's novels were published in serial forms in magazines that were popular in both England and America. His first popular novel was Under the Greenwood Tree, published in 1872. The next great novel, Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) was so popular that with the profits, Hardy was able to give up architecture and marry Emma Gifford. Other popular novels followed in quick succession: The Return of the Native (1878), The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), The Woodlanders (1887), Tess of the D'Urbervilles (1891), and Jude the Obscure (1895). In addition to these larger works, Hardy published three collections of short stories and five smaller novels, all moderately successful. However, despite the praise Hardy's fiction received, many critics also found his works to be too shocking, especially Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure. The outcry against Jude was so great that Hardy decided to stop writing novels and return to his first great love, poetry.

Over the years, Hardy divided his time between his home, Max Gate, in Dorchester and his lodgings in London. In his later years, he remained in Dorchester to focus completely on his poetry. In 1898, he saw his dream of becoming a poet realized with the publication of Wessex Poems. He then turned his attentions to an epic drama in verse, The Dynasts; it was finally completed in 1908. Before his death, he had written over 800 poems, many of them published while he was in his eighties.

By the last two decades of Hardy's life, he had achieved fame as great as Dickens's fame. In 1910, he was awarded the Order of Merit. New readers had also discovered his novels by the publication of the Wessex Editions, the definitive versions of all Hardy's early works. As a result, Max Gate became a literary shrine.

Hardy also found happiness in his personal life. His first wife, Emma, died in 1912. Although their marriage had not been happy, Hardy grieved at her sudden death. In 1914, he married Florence Dugale, and she was extremely devoted to him. After his death, Florence published Hardy's autobiography in two parts under her own name.

After a long and highly successful life, Thomas Hardy died on January 11, 1928, at the age of 87. His ashes were buried in Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey.

Thomas Hardy Neutral Tones1867We stood by a pond that winter day,And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that roveOver tedious riddles of years ago;And some words played between us to and froOn which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thingAlive enough to have strength to die;And a grin of bitterness swept therebyLike an ominous bird a-wing.

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,And wrings with wrong, have shaped to meYour face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,And a pond edged with grayish leaves.

Context: Based on the narrators picture of a relationship ending Colour 2 characters Neutral = pale and grey; unbiased Tone = colour; sound

Thomas Hardy I Look into My GlassCirca 1897Ilook into my glass,And view my wasting skin,And say, "Would God it came to passMy heart had shrunk as thin!"

For then, I, undistrestBy hearts grown cold to me,Could lonely wait my endless restWith equanimity.

But Time, to make me grieve,Part steals, lets part abide;And shakes this fragile frame at eveWith throbbings of noontide.

Context: Hardy is both looking in the mirror and painting in words an emotional self-portrait Age dominates in this poem Wasting shrivelled, withered Would God it came to pass I wish it would happen Wait my endless rest wait for my death Equanimity composure, serenity Frame body Eve the evening of life, old age

Thomas Hardy On the Departure Platform

We kissed at the barrier; and passing through She left me, and moment by moment gotSmaller and smaller, until my viewShe was but a spot;

A wee white spot of muslin fluffThat down the diminishing platform boreThrough hustling crowds of gentle and roughTo the carriage door.

Under the lamplights fitful glowers,Behind dark groups from far and near,Whose interests were apart from ours, She would disappear,

Then show again, till I ceased to seeThat flexible form, that nebulous white; And she who was more than my life to meHad vanished quite.

We have penned new plans since that fair fond day,And in season she will appear again Perhaps in the same soft white array But never as then!

-And why, young man, must eternally flyA joy youll repeat, if you love her well?-O friend, nought happens twice thus; why,I cannot tell!

Context: This poem tells the story of a romantic partner whom he leaves at a train station, probably never to see again. It is a poem about love 3 characters Wee small Muslin fluff a beautiful gown (dress) Nebulous connotation of clouds

Thomas Hardy The Darkling Thrush1900I leant upon a coppice gateWhen Frost was spectre-gray,And Winters dregs made desolateThe weakening eye of day.The tangled bine-stems scored the skyLike strings of broken lyres,And all mankind that haunted nighHad sought their household fires.

The lands sharp features seemed to beThe Centurys corpse outleant,His crypt the cloudy canopy,The wind his death-lament.The ancient pulse of germ and birthWas shrunken hard and dry,And every spirit upon the earthSeemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose amongThe bleak twigs overheadIn a full-hearted evensongOf joy illimited;An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,In blast-beruffled plume,Had chosen thus to fling his soulUpon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolingsOf such ecstatic soundWas written on terrestrial thingsAfar or nigh around,That I could think there trembled throughHis happy good-night airSome blessed Hope, whereof he knewAnd I was unaware.

Context: Written on New Years Eve The speaker is reminded that everything around him is quickly leading to death and decay. Depressing tone, until the bird sings! Darkling an old word for a creature of darkness Thrush a bird Coppice an area of woodland Bine a long climbing plant Lyre a stringed instrument Illimited unlimited Beruffled disordered, scruffy

Thomas Hardy Drummer Hodge1902They throw in Drummer Hodge, to restUncoffined-just as found:His landmark is a kopje-crestThat breaks the veldt around;And foreign constellations westEach night above his mound.

Young Hodge the drummer never knew-Fresh from his Wessex home-The meaning of the broad Karoo,The bush, the dusty loam,And why uprose to nightly viewStrange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plainWill Hodge forever be;His homely northern breast and brainGrow to some foreign tree,And strange-eyed constellations reignHis stars eternally.

Context: Drummer boys were used to carry messages and ammunition to the front line in war and were very vulnerable. This was written in 1899, a few weeks after the start of the Second Boer War. This poem tells the story of a British soldier during the Boer War in South Africa who is buried without ceremony and in a very foreign environment, especially considering that he came from a village in Dorset. Kopje-crest a small hill Veldt open grassland in South Africa Karoo a semi-desert region in South Africa

Thomas Hardy The Pine Planters1909(Marty Souths Reverie)IWe work here togetherIn blast and breeze;He fills the earth in,I hold the trees.

He does not noticeThat what I doKeeps me from movingAnd chills me through.

He has seen one fairerI feel by his eye,Which skims me as thoughI were not by.

And since she passed hereHe scarce has knownBut that the woodlandHolds him alone.

I have worked here with himSince morning shine,He busy with his thoughtsAnd I with mine.

I have helped him so many,So many days,But never win anySmall word of praise!

Shall I not sigh to himThat I work onGlad to be nigh to himThough hope is gone?

Nay, though he neverKnew love like mine,I'll bear it everAnd make no sign!

IIFrom the bundle at hand hereI take each tree,And set it to stand, hereAlways to be;When, in a second,As if from fearOf Life unreckonedBeginning here,It starts a sighingThrough day and night,Though while there lying'Twas voiceless quite.

It will sigh in the morning,Will sigh at noon,At the winter's warning,In wafts of June;Grieving that neverKind Fate decreedIt should for everRemain a seed,And shun the welterOf things without,Unneeding shelterFrom storm and drought.

Thus, all unknowingFor whom or whatWe set it growingIn this bleak spot,It still will grieve hereThroughout its time,Unable to leave here,Or change its clime;Or tell the storyOf us to-dayWhen, halt and hoary,We pass away.

Context: Part of Marty Souths reverie written in 1909. Marty South inspires the character in this poem. Marty South is secretly working in place of her father, who is ill in bed. Hoary greyish white; overused and unoriginal

Thomas Hardy The Going1912Why did you give no hint that nightThat quickly after the morrow's dawn,And calmly, as if indifferent quite,You would close your term here, up and be goneWhere I could not followWith wing of swallowTo gain one glimpse of you ever anon!Never to bid good-bye,Or lip me the softest call,Or utter a wish for a word, while ISaw morning harden upon the wall,Unmoved, unknowingThat your great goingHad place that moment, and altered all.Why do you make me leave the houseAnd think for a breath it is you I seeAt the end of the alley of bending boughsWhere so often at dusk you used to be;Till in darkening danknessThe yawning blanknessOf the perspective sickens me!You were she who abodeBy those red-veined rocks far West,You were the swan-necked one who rodeAlong the beetling Beeny Crest,And, reining nigh me,Would muse and eye me,While Life unrolled us its very best.Why, then, latterly did we not speak,Did we not think of those days long dead,And ere your vanishing strive to seekThat time's renewal? We might have said,"In this bright spring weatherWe'll visit togetherThose places that once we visited."Well, well! All's past amend,Unchangeable. It must go.I seem but a dead man held on endTo sink down soon. . . . O you could not knowThat such swift fleeingNo soul foreseeingNot even Iwould undo me so!

Context A woman (his wife) left suddenly through death. The speaker laments not only her loss, but the loss of the moment when he might have known she was leaving. Anon soon, shortly Bough a main branch of a tree Abode live Beetling - overhanging Beeny Crest a cliff in Cornwall that overlooks the sea

Thomas Hardy The Voice1913Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,Saying that now you are not as you wereWhen you had changed from the one who was all to me,But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,Standing as when I drew near to the townWhere you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessnessTravelling across the wet mead to me here,You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,Leaves around me falling,Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,And the woman calling.

Context A poem about loving someone and kind of hating them too. Everyone changes, and eventually were just somebody that someone else used to know What do we do when that somebody that we used to know dies? How do we mourn somebody who we no longer love? Mead a meadow, field Wan pale Wistlessness a word Hardy made up, perhaps thinking of the opposite of wistful (to long for) = conveys the sound of the breeze with their onomatopoeic sibilance Norward - northward

Thomas Hardy The Convergence of the Twain1915I In a solitude of the sea Deep from human vanity,And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II Steel chambers, late the pyres Of her salamandrine fires,Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III Over the mirrors meant To glass the opulentThe sea-worm crawls grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV Jewels in joy designed To ravish the sensuous mindLie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V Dim moon-eyed fishes near Gaze at the gilded gearAnd query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?...

VI Well: while was fashioning This creature of cleaving wing,The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII Prepared a sinister mate For her so gaily great A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII And as the smart ship grew In stature, grace, and hue,In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX Alien they seemed to be; No mortal eye could seeThe intimate welding of their later history,

X Or sign that they were bent By paths coincidentOn being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI Till the Spinner of the Years Said "Now!" And each one hears,And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

Context A poem about the Titanic, which sank in 1914. Telling the story of the Titanics construction Pyre a heap of material that burns, especially to burn bodies on Salamandrine epic fires Thrid an old-fashioned word for passing through something Lyre stringed instrument common in Greek myths Vaingloriousness vanity Immanent something that is inside of us and all parts of the universe kind of like a divine force of some sort that moves all things, whether we are aware of it or not The Shape of Ice the iceberg August respected and impressive Anon soon, shortly The Spinner of the Years a kind of divine providence that unifies all things and therefore spins the years as we go?

Thomas Hardy In Time of the Breaking Nations1915IOnly a man harrowing clodsIn a slow silent walkWith an old horse that stumbles and nodsHalf asleep as they stalk.IIOnly thin smoke without flameFrom the heaps of couch-grass;Yet this will go onward the sameThough Dynasties pass.IIIYonder a maid and her wightCome whispering by:Wars annals will cloud into nightEre their story die.

Context A farmer leads his horse as he farms his fields A young man and his romantic partner walk by as he does so Hardy was asked for a heartening poem at a time when public opinion was turning against the First World War Harrow to drag a harrow over land (after ploughing) Clod lumps of earth Wight old-fashioned word for person Annal a record of events year by year

Thomas Hardy At the Word Farewell1917She looked like a bird from a cloudOn the clammy lawn,Moving alone, bare-browedIn the dim of dawn.The candles alight in the roomFor my parting mealMade all things without doors loomStrange, ghostly, unreal.

The hour itself was a ghost,And it seemed to me thenAs of chances the chance furthermostI should see her again.I beheld not where all was so fleetThat a Plan of the pastWhich had ruled us from birthtime to meetWas in working at last:

No prelude did I there perceiveTo a drama at all,Of foreshadow what fortune might weaveFrom beginnings so small;But I rose as if quicked by a spurI was bound to obey,And stepped through the casement to herStill alone in the gray.

I am leaving youFarewell! I said, As I followed her onBy an alley bare boughs overspread;I soon must be gone!Even then the scale might have been turnedAgainst love by a feather,-But crimson one cheek of hers burnedWhen we came in together.

Context Published about five years after the death of Emma This poem is based on the first meeting of the couple Hardy writes it in such a way that it could almost be a eulogy for Emma The poem is about the almost ethereal presence of Emma and how they fell in love Bough large branch of a tree Crimson - red

Thomas Hardy During Wind and Rain1917They sing their dearest songsHe, she, all of themyea,Treble and tenor and bass,And one to play;With the candles mooning each face ...Ah, no; the years O!How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!

They clear the creeping mossElders and juniorsaye,Making the pathways neatAnd the garden gay;And they build a shady seatAh, no; the years, the years;See the white storm-birds wing across!

They are blithely breakfasting allMen and maidensyea,Under the summer tree,With a glimpse of the bay,While pet fowl come to the kneeAh, no; the years O!And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.

They change to a high new house,He, she, all of themaye,Clocks and carpets and chairsOn the lawn all day,And brightest things that are theirsAh, no; the years, the years;Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.

Context Published about five years after the death of Emma Reminisces about Emmas life Hardy focuses on her family and the inevitability of death Gay happy, carefree Ript - ripped

Thomas Hardy Nobody Comes1924Tree-leaves labour up and down,And through them the fainting lightSuccumbs to the crawl of night.Outside in the road the telegraph wireTo the town from the darkening landIntones to travelers like a spectral lyreSwept by a spectral hand.

A car comes up, with lamps full-glare,That flash upon a tree:It has nothing to do with me,And whangs along in a world of its own,Leaving a blacker air;And mute by the gate I stand again alone,And nobody pulls up there.

Context The poem reminds us of how old Hardy is and what he has lived through About loneliness and being pessimistic Juxtaposition between nature and modern technology Florence was very ill when he was writing this poem Spectral like a ghost Whang to produce a loud noise

Thomas Hardy No Buyers: A Street Scene1925

A load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairsLabours along the street in the rain:With it a man, a woman, a pony with whiteybrown hairs. The man foots in front of the horse with a shambling swayAt a slower tread than a funeral train,While to a dirge-like tune he chants his wares,Swinging a Turks-head brush (in a drum-majors wayWhen the bandsmen march and play).

A yard from the back of the man is the whiteybrown ponys nose:He mirrors his master in every item of pace and pose:He stops when the man stops, without being told,And seems to be eased by a pause; too plainly hes old,Indeed, not strength enough showsTo steer the disjointed waggon straight,Which wriggles left and right in a rambling line,Deflected thus by its own warp and weight,And pushing the pony with it in each incline.

The woman walks on the pavement verge,Parallel to the man:She wears an apron white and wide in span,And carries a like Turks-head, but more in nursing-wise:Now and then she joins in his dirge,But as if her thoughts were on distant things,The rain clams her apron till it clings. So, step by step, they move with their merchandize,And nobody buys.

Context Written when Hardy was old, which seems surprising that he should be publishing such a depressing poem! A small scene of daily life of a man and his wife who walk aimlessly through dull and uninterested streets, trying to sell their merchandise. Dirge a mournful song, a song for the dead

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