rssenglishworld, The English Literature and Grammar Digest

  A Request to My Readers Dear Readers, For many years, as a teacher and professor of English, I had the privilege of speaking directly to my students. In the classroom, I could guide them, encourage them, and ask them to remain connected with learning. Today, after retirement, that direct contact is no longer possible in the same way. Yet my commitment to teaching, writing, and sharing useful content with readers has remained unchanged. Through  rssenglishworld, The English Literature and Grammar Digest  and RSS English World News news.rssenglishworld.com , I continue to work with the same spirit—with the hope that my articles, lessons, reflections, and analyses may be of help to students, readers, and all those who wish to improve their understanding of English and of the world around them. I am happy that many of you read my work regularly. Your readership gives me encouragement and strength. But I would like to make one sincere request: if you find my work useful, ple...

  A Work of Artifice   by Marge Piercy  The bonsai tree in the attractive pot could have grown eighty feet tall on the side of a mountain till split by lightning. But a gardener carefully pruned it. It is nine inches high. Every day as he whittles back the branches the gardener croons, It is your nature to be small and cozy, domestic and weak; how lucky, little tree, to have a pot to grow in. With living creatures one must begin very early to dwarf their growth: the bound feet, the crippled brain, the hair in curlers, the hands you love to touch. A Work of Artifice by Marge Piercy — Line-by-Line Explanation This poem uses the image of a bonsai tree to discuss how society, especially men in positions of power, often limit the growth and potential of women. The title A Work of Artifice means something artificial, deliberately created, or manipulated, suggesting that women's limitations are not natural but imposed by society. The bonsai tree Explanation: The poem begins...

I Remember, I Remember by Thomas Hood I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away! I remember, I remember, The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups— Those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday,— The tree is living yet! I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! I remember, I remember, The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now ’tis little joy To know I’m farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy. Line-by-Line Explanation of I Remember, I Remember  ...