It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk    The dew that lay upon the morning grass;    There is no rustling in the lofty elm    That canopies my dwelling, and its shade5   Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint    And interrupted murmur of the bee,    Settling on the sick flowers, and then again    Instantly on the wing. The plants around    Feel the too potent fervors: the tall maize10    Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops   Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.    But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,    With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,    As if the scorching heat and dazzling light15    Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,    Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven,—   Their bases on the mountains—their white tops    Shining in the far ether—fire the air    With a reflected radiance, and make turn20    The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie    Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,    Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,    Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind   That still delays its coming. Why so slow,25    Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?    Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth    Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves    He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,    The pine is bending his proud top, and now30    Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak    Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!   Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!    The deep distressful silence of the scene    Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds35    And universal motion. He is come,    Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,    And bearing on their fragrance; and he brings   Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,    And sound of swaying branches, and the voice40    Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs    Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,   By the road-side and the borders of the brook,    Nod gayly to each other; glossy leaves    Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew45    Were on them yet, and silver waters break    Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.4Which recurring themes are revealed throughout the poem? A. The elements of water and air are essential to life, and nature's beauty is a bountiful gift to all. B. Nature makes people feel humbled, and the earth and sun are equal friends to humankind. C. Nature causes an emotional response, and solitude makes one understand what is important. D. Living things inspire creativity and pleasure, and nature's simplicity presents a beautiful ideal.

SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust–trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long–handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far–reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree–box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour—and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."Jim shook his head and said:"Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business—she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'.""Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket—I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know.""Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would.""SHE! She never licks anybody—whacks 'em over the head with her thimble—and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt—anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!"Jim began to waver."White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw.""My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis—""And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe."Jim was only human—this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work—the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it—bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration.He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently—the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop–skip–and–jump—proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep–toned ding–dong–dong, ding–dong–dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance—for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine–bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane–deck giving the orders and executing them:"Stop her, sir! Ting–a–ling–ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk."Ship up to back! Ting–a–ling–ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides."Set her back on the stabboard! Ting–a–ling–ling! Chow! ch–chow–wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles—for it was representing a forty–foot wheel."Let her go back on the labboard! Ting–a–lingling! Chow–ch–chow–chow!" The left hand began to describe circles."Stop the stabboard! Ting–a–ling–ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting–a–ling–ling! Chow–ow–ow! Get out that head–line! LIVELY now! Come—out with your spring–line—what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now—let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting–a–ling–ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge–cocks).Tom went on whitewashing—paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi–YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!"No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said:"Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"Tom wheeled suddenly and said:"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing.""Say—I'm going in a–swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK—wouldn't you? Course you would!"Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:"What do you call work?""Why, ain't THAT work?"Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer.""Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?"The brush continued to move."Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth—stepped back to note the effect—added a touch here and there—criticised the effect again—Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:"Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little."Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:"No—no—I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence—right here on the street, you know —but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done.""No—is that so? Oh come, now—lemme just try. Only just a little—I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom.""Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly—well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it—""Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say—I'll give you the core of my apple.""Well, here—No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard—""I'll give you ALL of it!"Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with—and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty–stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews–harp, a piece of blue bottle–glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire–crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog–collar—but no dog—the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange–peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while—plenty of company —and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it—namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread–mill is work, while rolling ten–pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four–horse passenger–coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.

What does the plant symbolize in the final stage directions of A Raisin in the Sun below?(RUTH hesitates, then exits. MAMA stands, at last alone in the living room, her plant on the table before her as the lights start to come down. She looks around at all the walls and ceilings and suddenly, despite herself, while the children call below, a great heaving thing rises in her and she puts her fist to her mouth to stifle it, takes a final desperate look, pulls her coat about her, pats her hat and goes out. The lights dim down. The door opens and she comes back in, grabs her plant, and goes out for the last time.)Group of answer choiceshope for the futurenever leaving anyone behindthe importance of familystruggle in the future

It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning; there was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing, and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue-shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything for the mere sake of subsidence—a premonition of rest and hush and night.     This soft commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing all the afternoon; now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely and laid in a basket. Louisa could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from use and constant association, a part of her personality.     Louisa tied a green apron around her waist, got out a flat straw hat with a green ribbon, and then she went into the garden with a little blue crockery bowl, to pick some currants for her tea. After the currants were picked, she sat on the back doorstep and stemmed them, collecting the stems carefully in her apron, and afterwards throwing them into the chicken coop; she looked sharply at the grass beside the step to see if any had fallen there.     Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea, but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her own self. The little square table stood exactly in the center of the kitchen and was covered with a starched linen cloth whose border pattern of flowers glistened. Louisa used china every day—something which none of her neighbors did. They whispered about it among themselves because their daily tables were laid with common crockery, their sets of best china stayed in the parlor closet, and Louisa Ellis was no richer nor better bred than they, but still she would use the china.5Which detail from the passage best supports the idea that Louisa is industrious? A. She had been peacefully sewing all the afternoon B. Louisa was slow and still in her movements C. it took her a long time to prepare her tea D. she sat on the back doorstep and stemmed them

It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning; there was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing, and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue-shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything for the mere sake of subsidence—a premonition of rest and hush and night.     This soft commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing all the afternoon; now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely and laid in a basket. Louisa could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from use and constant association, a part of her personality.     Louisa tied a green apron around her waist, got out a flat straw hat with a green ribbon, and then she went into the garden with a little blue crockery bowl, to pick some currants for her tea. After the currants were picked, she sat on the back doorstep and stemmed them, collecting the stems carefully in her apron, and afterwards throwing them into the chicken coop; she looked sharply at the grass beside the step to see if any had fallen there.     Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea, but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her own self. The little square table stood exactly in the center of the kitchen and was covered with a starched linen cloth whose border pattern of flowers glistened. Louisa used china every day—something which none of her neighbors did. They whispered about it among themselves because their daily tables were laid with common crockery, their sets of best china stayed in the parlor closet, and Louisa Ellis was no richer nor better bred than they, but still she would use the china.4Which themes does the author develop in the passage? A. Gardens are sources of nourishing food, and a well-set table can be like a fine work of art. B. Life on a farm is often lonely, and people may not understand others' good intentions. C. Leisure can bring a sense of peace, and each person has unique skills and talents. D. Routine can provide a sense of delight, and the good things in life can beautify the ordinary.

It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning; there was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing, and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue-shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything for the mere sake of subsidence—a premonition of rest and hush and night.     This soft commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing all the afternoon; now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely and laid in a basket. Louisa could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from use and constant association, a part of her personality.     Louisa tied a green apron around her waist, got out a flat straw hat with a green ribbon, and then she went into the garden with a little blue crockery bowl, to pick some currants for her tea. After the currants were picked, she sat on the back doorstep and stemmed them, collecting the stems carefully in her apron, and afterwards throwing them into the chicken coop; she looked sharply at the grass beside the step to see if any had fallen there.     Louisa was slow and still in her movements; it took her a long time to prepare her tea, but when ready it was set forth with as much grace as if she had been a veritable guest to her own self. The little square table stood exactly in the center of the kitchen and was covered with a starched linen cloth whose border pattern of flowers glistened. Louisa used china every day—something which none of her neighbors did. They whispered about it among themselves because their daily tables were laid with common crockery, their sets of best china stayed in the parlor closet, and Louisa Ellis was no richer nor better bred than they, but still she would use the china.5Which themes does the author develop in the passage? A. Leisure can bring a sense of peace, and each person has unique skills and talents. B. Life on a farm is often lonely, and people may not understand others' good intentions. C. Routine can provide a sense of delight, and the good things in life can beautify the ordinary. D. Gardens are sources of nourishing food, and a well-set table can be like a fine work of art.