There's been a death in the opposite house

Option1 from attached file: Using Elizabeth Bishop’s “Quai D’Orleans” and “One Art,” compose an essay that considers

the ways that Bishop explores the nature of loss and memory. Your discussion and conclusion should

must draw on connections between the two poems. Make sure that you discuss the tone of each poem.

Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.).

– Essay Two (Poetry – Theme) Length: 6-7 pages Due date: Check Canvas The Task: Select one of the options from below and write a five to six-page essay that, through explications of the poems, explores the themes mentioned below. Option One: Using Elizabeth Bishop’s “Quai D’Orleans” and “One Art,” compose an essay that considers the ways that Bishop explores the nature of loss and memory. Your discussion and conclusion should must draw on connections between the two poems. Make sure that you discuss the tone of each poem. Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.). Option Two: Using Seamus Heaney’s “Death of a Naturalist” and “Blackberry Picking” explore the childhood lessons that the poet illustrates in each poem. What are those lessons? How does the tone of each poem differ? Focus on the similarities of the poems (the differences should not be your focus). Do not skip any language of the poem. You must pay careful attention to the tone of each poem—and how that tone shifts. Make sure that you also pay close attention to the music of the language. Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.). Option Three: Using Seamus Heaney’s “Blackberry Picking” and Galway Kinnell’s “Blackberry Eating” explore how each poet writes about the pleasures and / or disappointments of gathering and eating blackberries. Focus on the similarities of the poems (the differences should not be your focus). Do not skip any language of the poem. You must pay careful attention to the tone of each poem. Make sure that you also pay close attention to the music of the language. Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.). Option Four: Using Emily Dickinson’s “There’s Been a Death in the Opposite House” and “I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died,” explore how Dickinson considers death in both poems. Option Five: Using Robert Frost’s poems “Bereft” and “Desert Places” consider how Frost explores the way we project our emotions into how we experience the landscape. Make sure that you discuss the tone of each poem. Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.). Option Six: Using Robert Frost’s poems “Desert Places” and Wallace Stevens’ “The Snow Man” consider how each poet explores the way we project our emotions onto the winter landscape. Make sure that you discuss the tone of each poem. Make sure that you include any literary devices (metaphors, alliteration etc.). To Prepare: To help you better prepare for the essay, I want you, before you begin, to print out copies of the poems you are writing about and then, in the margins, summarize, word for word, what the poet is describing/discussing. I’d also like you to write down your initial reflections and analyses about what you might infer from the language of the poems. This way, before you begin writing, you will have engaged the poems closely enough to provide you with enough material to shape your initial writing direction. Note: your writing task will be much easier if you take the time to read the poems many times so that you will be very familiar with what happens in them. Audience: As you did for the last essay, I want you to write as if you are writing to your fellow classmates— which means that you will be writing for an audience who is familiar with the poem. DO NOT USE “I” OR “YOU” FOR THIS ESSAY. Structure: Unlike the previous essay, this time you must provide a formal introduction, a thesis statement, and a conclusion that draws together everything you have discussed (and explains, ultimately, how the theme is explored in the poems you have written about).

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Citation: Since you will be writing about two different poems, you will need to differentiate between them. If the poems are written by the same author, then use an abbreviated version of the title (for example: “Death of a Naturalist” = “Naturalist”). Cite the line number (s) as well. If you write about “Blackberry Picking” and “Blackberry Eating,” then use the poet’s last name and the line number. Remember, you only need to cite the title / author in the parentheses if you are either (a) quoting from the poem for the first time (and you have not included the title or poet’s name in your sentence) or (b) if you are switching between poems. Use the following for your works cited requirement (please note EXACTLY how it is formatted) Poet’s Last Name, Poet’s First Name. “Title of Poem.” English 1B Course Reader: Spring 2017. Ed.

Nathan Wirth. Novato, CA: Nathan’s Mind Inc. 2017. Print.

Outside Sources: I do not want you to reference any outside sources. Upload to Canvas: (1) A letter that discusses your difficulties and/or successes writing the essay (2) Your Final Draft. No printed copies will be accepted. Please make the first page of the document your process letter. You can find a sample process letter in this course reader. Formatting: All written work (except for rough drafts and notes) must be typed and double spaced. Pages must be numbered. Include a title. No large gaps between paragraphs. Underline your thesis statement. You must use Times New Roman 12 pt. If you don't follow the proper formatting, I will return the paper to you. It is essential that you meet the minimum required page limit. If you do not, then points will be deducted from your essay. You are always welcome to write more than the minimum. Process Letter: You are also required to include a brief letter that outlines the difficulties and successes you experienced while working on your essay. Your letter should be a short reflection (at least a paragraph) about your experience writing your essay. What did you struggle with? What problems did you encounter? How did you overcome them? What do you feel satisfied about? Any concerns that you want me to address when I read your essay? Plagiarism: Here is the official CCSF policy on plagiarism: "Plagiarism is defined as the unauthorized use of the language and thought of another author and representing them as your own." Plagiarism is a violation of the rules of student conduct, and discipline may include, but is not limited to," a failing grade in an assignment, test, or class in proven cases of cheating or plagiarism or other academic dishonesty." My official policy is that you will receive a failing grade for the assignment (0 points for the assignment). If you should plagiarize a second time, then you will receive a failing grade for the class.

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Image of the Quai d’Orelans in France "Bishop’s second and last trip to France in 1937 became linked with a horrifying car accident involving her friend Margaret Miller. Bishop had been traveling in Burgundy with Louise Crane (the driver) and Miller when they were forced off the road. As a result of the accident, Margaret lost her arm. This dismemberment caused Bishop major psychological grief (she would try to write a poem from the point of the view of the arm for many years): her guilt

(unwarranted as it was) perhaps made the lost arm synechdochal for Bishop’s earlier traumas of loss (and connection), in particular her loss of her mother to madness."

-- from Susan McCabe's “‘Facing the Wrong Way’: Elizabeth Bishop and the French Connection” -- Quai d’Orleans by Elizabeth Bishop (published in 1946)

for Margaret Miller

Each barge on the river easily tows a mighty wake, a giant oak-leaf of gray lights on duller gray; and behind it real leaves are floating by, down to the sea. mercury-vines on the giant leaves, the ripples, make for the sides of the quai, to extinguish themselves against the walls as softly as falling-stars come to their ends at a point in the sky. And throngs of small leaves, real leaves, trailing them, go drifting by to disappear as modestly, down the sea’s dissolving halls. We stand as still as stones to watch the leaves and ripples while light and nervous water hold their interview. “If what we see could forget us half as easily,” I want to tell you, “as it does itself—but for life we’ll not be rid of the leaves’ fossils.”

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Biographical Note for “One Art” “There is no doubt that the crisis behind [“One Art”] was the apparent loss to Bishop of Alice Methfessel, the companion, caretaker, secretary, and great love of the last eight years of her life. Although its method is the description of the accumulation of losses in the poet's life, its occasion is the loss of Alice.” Source: Millier, Brett Candlish. "Elusive Mastery: The Drafts of Elizabeth Bishop's 'One Art.'" Elizabeth Bishop:

The Geography of Gender. Ed. Marilyn May Lombardi. Charlottesville, VA: Virginia UP, 1993. Print.

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop (1976) The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster, Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three beloved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. -- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster. NOTE: MAKE SURE YOU LOOK AT THE NEXT PAGE, WHERE THE FORM OF THE VILLANELLE IS EXPLAINED This will help you to understand the specific form of this poem, which you need to know about in order to fully grasp the poem.

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Villanelle: a villanelle carries a pattern of only two rhymes, and is marked most distinctively by its alternating refrain, which appears initially in the first and third lines of the opening tercet. In all, it comprises five tercets (three line stanzas) and a concluding quatrain. One Art by Elizabeth Bishop The art of losing isn't hard to master; [this line is repeated in the 2nd and 4th tercets as well as the final quatrain] so many things seem filled with the intent [the ent sound is found in the second line of all the tercets and the final quatrain] to be lost that their loss is no disaster, [a variation of the idea of it not being a disaster is found in the 3rd and 5th

tercets and the final quatrain] Lose something every day. Accept the fluster [fluster/master is a slant rhyme] of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or [last or /master is a slant rhyme] next-to-last, of three beloved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. -- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture [gesture/master is a slant rhyme] I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master [note that Bishop alters the line here] though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster. [note that Bishop must use the word disaster here to complete the form of the villanelle]

Slant Rhyme: a rhyme in which either the vowels or the consonants of stressed syllables are identical, as in eyes / light; years / yours.

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Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney All year the flax-dam festered in the heart Of the townland; green and heavy headed Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods. Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun. Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell. There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies, But best of all was the warm thick slobber Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied Specks to range on window-sills at home, On shelves at school, and wait and watch until The fattening dots burst into nimble- Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how The daddy frog was called a bullfrog And how he croaked and how the mammy frog Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too For they were yellow in the sun and brown In rain. Then one hot day when fields were rank With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges To a coarse croaking that I had not heard Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus. Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped: The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting. I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.

Onomatopoeia: the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named (cuckoo, sizzle). Assonance: repetition of vowel sounds (hot, not, sod, hopped, window sills) Alliteration: repetition of initial consonant sounds (heavy headed, coarse croaking) Consonance: repetition of final syllable consonant sounds (slap and plop)

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Blackberry Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots. Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills We trekked and picked until the cans were full Until the tinkling bottom had been covered With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's. We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre. But when the bath was filled we found a fur, A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache. The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. Blackberry Eating by Galway Kinnell I love to go out in late September among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries to eat blackberries for breakfast, the stalks very prickly, a penalty they earn for knowing the black art of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries fall almost unbidden to my tongue, as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words like strengths or squinched, many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps, which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well in the silent, startled, icy, black language of blackberry -- eating in late September.

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There's been a Death, in the Opposite House by Emily Dickinson There's been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today -- I know it, by the numb look Such Houses have -- alway -- The Neighbors rustle in and out -- The Doctor -- drives away -- A Window opens like a Pod -- Abrupt -- mechanically -- Somebody flings a Mattress out -- The Children hurry by -- They wonder if it died -- on that -- I used to -- when a Boy -- The Minister -- goes stiffly in -- As if the House were His -- And He owned all the Mourners -- now -- And little Boys -- besides -- And then the Milliner -- and the Man Of the Appalling Trade -- To take the measure of the House -- There'll be that Dark Parade -- Of Tassels -- and of Coaches -- soon -- It's easy as a Sign -- The Intuition of the News -- In just a Country Town – I heard a Fly buzz – when I died by Emily Dickinson I heard a Fly buzz – when I died – The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air – Between the Heaves of Storm – The Eyes around – had wrung them dry – And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset – when the King Be witnessed – in the Room – I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away What portions of me be Assignable – and then it was There interposed a Fly – With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz – Between the light – and me – And then the Windows failed – and then I could not see to see –

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Bereft by Robert Frost Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shore? Summer was past and the day was past. Sombre clouds in the west were massed. Out on the porch's sagging floor, Leaves got up in a coil and hissed, Blindly striking at my knee and missed. Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret my be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God. Desert Places by Robert Frost Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In a field I looked into going past, And the ground almost covered smooth in snow, But a few weeds and stubble showing last. The woods around it have it—it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs. I am too absent-spirited to count; The loneliness includes me unawares. And lonely as it is, that loneliness Will be more lonely ere it will be less— A blanker whiteness of benighted snow With no expression, nothing to express. They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars—on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.

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The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, In the sound of a few leaves, Which is the sound of the land Full of the same wind That is blowing in the same bare place For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.