Voice

=Writing Assignment:=
 * Read the two poems and answer the questions.**
 * To post your response, click on the Discussion Tab** at the top of the page, paste in your essay/response and click post. Then everyone can read all the responses; I can read and grade, and **everyone can respond to at least two people in the class in no less than 150 words.**

This helped me tremendously. LIL

Questions: Answer each question individually in 150-words each. 1. What differences in tone do you find between Whitman's and Dickinson's poems? Point out in each poem whatever contributes to these differences. 2. //Boanerges// in Dickinson's last stanza means "sons of thunder," a name given by Jesus to the disciples John and James (see Mark 3:17). How far should the reader work out the particulars of this comparison? Does it make the tone of the poem serious? How? 3. Are the subjects of the two poems identical? Discuss.

By Walt Whitman
 * To a Locomotive In Winter**

Thee for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining, Thee in thy panoply, thy measur'd dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive, Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery steel, Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling at thy sides, Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar, now tapering in the distance, Thy great protruding headlight fix'd in front, Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple, The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack. Thy knitted frame, thy springs and valves, the tremulous twinkle of thy wheels, Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily following, Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careening; Type of the modern - emblem of motion and power - pulse of the continent, For once come serve the Muse and and merge in verse, even as here I see thee, With storm and buffeting gusts of wind and falling snow, By day thy warning ringing bell to sound its notes, By night thy silent signal lamps to swing. Fierce-throated beauty! Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music,thy swinging lamps at night, Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all, Law of thyself complete, thine old track firmly holding, (No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,) Thy trills and shrieks by rocks and hills return'd, Launch'd o'er the prairies wide, across the lakes, To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.

By Emily Dickinson
 * I like to see it lap the Miles**

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains, And, supercilious, peer In shanties by the sides of roads; And then a quarry pare To fit its sides, and crawl between, Complaining all the while In horrid, hooting stanza; Then chase itself down hill And neigh like Boanerges; Then, punctual as a star, Stop--docile and omnipotent-- At its own stable door.