Chapter 2: English and European Literature: GE 121 - Great Books

GE 121 | Great Books
CHAPTER 2: ENGLISH AND EUROPEAN LITERATURE
TARGET COURSE LEARNING OUTCOMES

CLO1: demonstrate understanding of literature and of the different literary
masterpieces around the world;
CLO2: show proficiency in giving interpretations of literary texts; and
CLO3: analyze the importance of literature in its relation to its socio-cultural context
and to its ‗universal‘ appeal;
CLO4: create new perspectives through reflections of the ‗universality‘ of the literary
texts; and
CLO5: develop literary appreciation
LESSON 1: Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare
LESSON OUTCOMES:
At the end of the lesson, students are expected to attain the following:
a. identify the addressee of the speaker;
b. give their interpretation of the sonnet; and
c. relate Shakespearean love with today‘s dating scene
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
William Shakespeare (1564–1616) is of course best known as the writer of sonnets

and of plays, but he also wrote lyrics for songs in some of the plays. The following
two lyrics are sung at the end of an early comedy, Love‘s Labor‘s Lost. (No early
settings are known for these songs.) Conflict is essential in drama, and in these two
poems we get a sort of melodious conflict, a song in praise of spring, juxtaposed
against a song in praise of winter. But notice that within each song there are
elements of conflict.
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Sonnet 18
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer‘s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer‘s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature‘s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow‘st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander‘st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow‘st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
[SOURCE: https://bit.ly/3sh6jSz]
ASSESSMENT
Directions: Have fun answering the following questions.
1. ―And every fair from fair declines.‖ What does this line mean?
2. Who is ―thee‖ here? To whom is the poem addressed?
3. Look at the couplet at the end of the poem. What does it mean when the
speaker said the poem will continue to live as long as men still see and
breathe?
4. Do you think poems like this would still be romantic in today‘s dating scene?
Why do you or do you not think so?

LESSON 2: I Used to Live Here Once by Jean Rhys
LESSON OUTCOMES:
a. retell the story in their own words;
b. analyze details that paints the theme of the story
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
―Jean Rhys‖ was the pseudonym used by Ella Gwendolen Rees Williams (1890–
1979). She was born in the West Indies, in Dominica (at that time a British colony),
and educated there and in England. After a term at the London Academy of Dramatic
Arts she joined a touring musical company, married a man who was soon convicted
of illegal financial dealings, divorced, lived with the writer Ford Madox Ford, and
married twice again. Much of this experience found its way into the stories and
novels she began to publish in 1927. After the publication in 1939 of a novel called
Good Morning, Midnight, she published nothing until 1966, when another novel, The
Wide Sargasso Sea, again brought her to public attention. This book is a retelling of
Charlotte Brontë‘s Jane Eyre, from the point of view of Rochester‘s first wife, the
madwoman confined to the attic. The fact that Rhys‘s most common theme is the
maltreatment by a man of a sensitive woman doubtless explains part of the revival of
interest in her work, but she was by no means limited to that theme, as the following
story indicates. In addition to writing stories and five novels, she wrote Smile Please:
An Unfinished Autobiography (1979).
I Used to Live Here

Jean Rhys
She was standing by the river looking at the stepping stones and remembering each
one. There was the round unsteady stone, the pointed one, the flat one in the
middle—the safe stone where you could stand and look round. The next wasn‘t so
safe for when the river was full the water flowed over it and even when it showed dry
it was slippery. But after that it was easy and soon she was standing on the other
side.
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The road was much wider than it used to be but the work had been done carelessly.
The felled trees had not been cleared away and the bushes looked trampled. Yet it
was the same road and she walked along feeling extraordinarily happy.
It was a fine day, a blue day. The only thing was that the sky had a glassy look that
she didn‘t remember. That was the only word she could think of. Glassy. She turned
the corner, saw that what had been the old pave had been taken up, and there too
the road was much wider, but it had the same unfinished look.
She came to the worn stone steps that led up to the house and her heart began to
beat. The screw pine was gone, so was the mock summer house called the ajoupa,
but the clove tree was still there and at the top of the steps the rough lawn stretched
away, just as she remembered it.
She stopped and looked towards the house that had been added to and painted
white. It was strange to see a car standing in front of it.
There were two children under the big mango tree, a boy and a little girl, and she
waved to them and called ―Hello‖ but they didn‘t answer her or turn their heads. Very
fair children, as Europeans born in the West Indies so often are: as if the white blood
is asserting itself against all odds.
The grass was yellow in the hot sunlight as she walked towards them. When she was
quite close she called again shyly: ―Hello.‖ Then, ―I used to live here once,‖ she said.
Still they didn‘t answer. When she said for the third time ―Hello‖ she was quite near
them. Her arms went out instinctively with the longing to touch them. It was the boy
who turned. His grey eyes looked straight into hers. His expression didn‘t change. He
said: ―Hasn‘t it gone cold all of a sudden. D‘you notice? Let‘s go in.‖ ―Yes let‘s,‖ said
the girl. Her arms fell to her sides as she watched them running across the grass to
the house. That was the first time she knew.
[SOURCE: Barnet, S., Burto, W., Cain, W. E. (2008). Introduction to Literature:

Fiction, Poetry, Drama. Pearson Longman.]

ASSESMENT
Directions: Write T if the statement is true and F if it is false.
____1. The story is written in the first person point of view.

____2. The main character‘s recollection of how there was an unsteady stone or how
the roads used to be wider was because she used to travel a lot there.
____3. The ajoupa she was referring to was the mock summer house.
____4. When the boy said that the place has gone cold all of a sudden, this meant
the she didn‘t belong there anymore.
____5. The main character had said ―Hello.‖ four times to the little boy and girl.
Directions: Answer the question briefly

Review the last paragraph. Explain how it reflects on the theme of the
story.
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LESSON 3: Mademoiselle by Guy de Maupassant
LESSON OUTCOMES:
a. understand how character development works; and
b. criticize how gender is viewed from the society of the story‘s setting with
today‘s society
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Guy de Maupassant (1850–1893) was born in Dieppe, France. (In speaking of him by
his last name only, the name is Maupassant, not de Maupassant.) He studied law
briefly, served in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), and then lived in Paris,
where he met such distinguished writers as Émile Zola and Gustave Flaubert.
Maupassant for a time worked as a civil servant, but he resigned his job in 1880
when he published (in an anthology edited by Zola) the first of his two hundred or so
stories. He had meanwhile contracted syphilis, which in later years affected his mind.
He attempted suicide in 1891 and was confined to an asylum, where he died two
years later.
Mademoiselle
Guy de Maupassant
English Translation by Jane Saretta
He had been registered under the names of Jean Marie Mathieu Valot, but he was
never called anything but ―Mademoiselle.‖ He was the village simpleton, but not one
of those wretched, ragged simpletons who live on public charity. He lived comfortably
on a small income which his mother had left him, and which his guardian paid him
regularly, and so he was rather envied than pitied. And then, he was not one of those
idiots with wild looks and the manners of an animal, for he was by no means
unattractive, with his half-open lips and smiling eyes, and especially in his constant
make-up in female dress. For he dressed like a girl, and thus showed how little he
objected to being called Mademoiselle.
And why should he not like the nickname which his mother had given him
affectionately, when he was a mere child, so delicate and weak, and with a fair

complexion—poor little diminutive lad not as tall as many girls of the same age? It
was in pure love that, in his earlier years, his mother whispered that tender
Mademoiselle to him, while his old grandmother, used to say jokingly:
―The fact is, as for his male equipment, it‘s really not worth mentioning— no offense
to God in saying so.‖ And his grandfather, who was equally fond of a joke, used to
add: ―I only hope it won‘t disappear as he grows up.‖
And they treated him as if he had really been a girl and coddled him, the more so as
they were very prosperous and did not have to worry about making ends meet.
When his mother and grandparents were dead, Mademoiselle was almost as happy
with his paternal uncle, an unmarried man, who had carefully attended the simpleton
and who had grown more and more attached to him by dint of looking after him; and
the worthy man continued to call Jean Marie Mathieu Valot, Mademoiselle.
He was called so in all the country round as well, not with the slightest intention of
hurting his feelings, but, on the contrary, because all thought they would please the
poor gentle creature who harmed nobody by his behavior.
The very street boys meant no harm by it, accustomed as they were to call the tall
idiot in a frock and cap by the nickname; but it would have struck them as very
extraordinary, and would have led them to crude jokes, if they had seen him dressed
like a boy.
Mademoiselle, however, took care of that, for his dress was as dear to him as his
nickname. He delighted in wearing it, and, in fact, cared for nothing else, and what
gave it a particular zest was that he knew that he was not a girl, and that he was
living in disguise. And this was evident by the exaggerated feminine bearing and walk
he put on, as if to show that it was not natural to him. His enormous, carefully
arranged cap was adorned with large variegated ribbons. His petticoat, with
numerous flounces, was distended behind by many hoops. He walked with short
steps, and with exaggerated swaying of the hips, while his folded arms and crossed
hands were distorted into pretensions of comical coquetry.
On such occasions, if anybody wished to make friends with him, it was necessary to
say:
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―Ah! Mademoiselle, what a nice girl you make.‖
That put him into a good humor, and he used to reply, much pleased:
―Don‘t I? But people can see I only do it for a joke.‖
But, nevertheless, when they were dancing at village festivals in the neighborhood,
he would always be invited to dance as Mademoiselle, and would never ask any of
the girls to dance with him; and one evening when somebody asked him the reason
for this, he opened his eyes wide, laughed as if the man had said something stupid,
and replied:
―I cannot ask the girls, because I am not dressed like a boy. Just look at my dress,
you fool!‖
As his interrogator was a judicious man, he said to him:
―Then dress like one, Mademoiselle.‖
He thought for a moment, and then said with a cunning look:
―But if I dress like a boy, I won‘t be a girl anymore, and then I am a girl,‖ and he
shrugged his shoulders as he said it.
But the remark seemed to make him think.
For some time afterward, when he met the same person, he would ask
him abruptly:
―If I dress like a boy, will you still call me Mademoiselle?‖
―Of course, I will,‖ the other replied. ―You will always be called so.‖
The simpleton appeared delighted, for there was no doubt that he thought more of
his nickname than he did of his dress, and the next day he made his appearance in
the village square, without his petticoats and dressed as a man. He had taken a pair

of trousers, a coat, and a hat from his guardian‘s closet. This created quite a
disturbance in the neighborhood, for the people who had been in the habit of smiling
at him kindly when he was dressed as a woman, looked at him in astonishment and
almost in fear, while the indulgent could not help laughing, and visibly making fun of
him.
The involuntary hostility of some, and the too evident ridicule of others, the
disagreeable surprise of all, were too palpable for him not to see it, and to be hurt by
it, and it was still worse when a street urchin said to him in a jeering voice, as he
danced round him:
―Oh! oh! Mademoiselle, you wear trousers! Oh! oh! Mademoiselle!‖
And it grew worse and worse, when a whole band of these vagabonds were on his
heels, hooting and yelling after him, as if he had been somebody in a masquerading
dress during the Carnival.
It was quite certain that the unfortunate creature looked more in disguise now than he
had formerly. By dint of living like a girl, and by even exaggerating the feminine walk
and manners, he had totally lost all masculine looks and ways. His smooth face, his
long flax-like hair, required a cap with ribbons, and became a caricature under the
high stove-pipe hat of the old doctor, his grandfather.
Mademoiselle‘s shoulders, and especially his swelling stern, danced about wildly in
this old-fashioned coat and wide trousers. And nothing was as funny as the contrast
between his odd dress and delicate walk, the winning way he used his head, and the
elegant movements of his hands, with which he fanned himself like a girl.
Soon the older lads and girls, the old women, men of ripe age and even the Judicial
Councilor, joined the little brats, and hooted Mademoiselle, while the astonished
fellow ran away, and rushed into the house with terror. There he put both hands to
his poor head, and tried to comprehend the matter. Why were they angry with him?
For it was quite evident that they were angry with him. What wrong had he done, and
whom had he injured, by dressing as a boy? Was he not a boy, after all? For the first
time in his life, he felt a horror for his nickname, for had he not been insulted through
it? But immediately he was seized with a horrible doubt.
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―Suppose that, after all, I am a girl?‖
He wanted to ask his guardian about it but he was reluctant to do so, for he somehow
felt, although only obscurely, that he, worthy man, might not tell him the truth, out of
kindness. And, besides, he preferred to find out for himself, without asking anyone.
All his idiot‘s cunning, which had been lying latent up till then, because he never had
any occasion to make use of it, now came out and urged him to a solitary and dark
action.
The next day he dressed himself as a girl again, and made his appearance as if he
had perfectly forgotten his escapade of the day before, but the people, especially the
street boys, had not forgotten it. They looked at him sideways, and, even the best of
them, could not help smiling, while the little blackguards ran after him and said:
―Oh! oh! Mademoiselle, you were wearing pants!‖
But he pretended not to hear, or even to guess what they were alluding to. He
seemed as happy and glad to look about him as he usually did, with half-open lips
and smiling eyes. As usual, he wore an enormous cap with variegated ribbons, and
the same large petticoats; he walked with short, mincing steps, swaying and
wriggling his hips and gesticulating like a coquette, and licked his lips when they
called him Mademoiselle, while really he would have liked to have jumped at the
throats of those who called him so.
Days and months passed, and by degrees people forgot all about his strange
escapade. But he had never left off thinking about it, or trying to find out—for which
he was always on the alert—how he could ascertain his qualities as a boy, and how
to assert them victoriously. Really innocent, he had reached the age of twenty
without knowing anything or without ever having any natural impulse, but being
tenacious of purpose, curious and dissembling, he asked no questions, but observed
all that was said and done.
Often at their village dances, he had heard young fellows boasting about girls whom
they had seduced, and girls praising such and such a young fellow, and often, also,
after a dance, he saw the couples go away together, with their arms round each

other‘s waists. They paid no attention to him, and he listened and watched, until, at
last, he discovered what was going on.
And then, one night, when dancing was over, and the couples were going away with
their arms round each other‘s waists, a terrible screaming was heard at the corner of
the woods through which those going to the next village had to pass. It was
Josephine, pretty Josephine, and when her screams were heard, they ran to her
assistance, and arrived only just in time to rescue her, half strangled, from
Mademoiselle‘s clutches.
The idiot had watched her and had thrown himself upon her in order to treat her as
the other young fellows did the girls, but she resisted him so stoutly that he took her
by the throat and squeezed it with all his might until she could not breathe, and was
nearly dead.
In rescuing Josephine from him, they had thrown him on the ground, but he jumped
up again immediately, foaming at the mouth and slobbering, and exclaimed:
―I am not a girl any longer, I‘m a man, I‘m a man, I tell you.‖

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ASSESSMENT
1. How would you describe Mademoiselle?
2. What do you think made Mademoiselle decide to ―not be a girl any longer‖
and be a man?
3. Why was Mademoiselle ridiculed by the people?
4. Get into the mind of Mademoiselle. Identify the motive of Mademoiselle

regarding the incident with Josephine.
5. Imagine if Mademoiselle was set in today‘s time. How will the people treat
him? Will it be the same as in the story, or differently? Elaborate.

LESSON 4: The Little Prince: Chapter 21 by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
LESSON OUTCOMES
a. discriminate the traits of the characters of the story;
b. elaborate what ―tame‖ means in the context of the story; and
c. apply the moralistic value of the story in real life
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry was born in Lyons on June 29, 1900; he attended Jesuit
schools in France and Switzerland. He was a poor and unruly student but took great
interest in the rapidly developing science of flight. In 1921 he began military service
and learned to fly, later being commissioned as an air force officer. After 3 years in
business, Saint-Exupéry became a commercial pilot in 1926, flying first from France
to Morocco and West Africa. From his experiences he drew the novel that launched
his literary career in 1929, Courrier Sud (Southern Mail). Here he portrays the pilot's
solitary struggle against the elements and his sense of dedication to his vocation,
stronger even than love.
The Little Prince: Chapter 21

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around
he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
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"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also
raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just
like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on
your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred
thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you
will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that
she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.

The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the
chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a
little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall
know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send
me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my
burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread.
Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is
sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when
you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought
of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
Please--tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have
friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
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"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more
time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there
is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any
more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance
from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and
you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a
little closer to me, every day . . ."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for
example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin
to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I
shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if
you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to
greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one
day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example,
among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is
a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters
danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never
have any vacation at all."
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but
you wanted me to tame you . . ."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And
then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all
the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a
secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed
you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was
only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and
now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be
sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose
that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds
of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have
put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen;
because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we
saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she
grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my
rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
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"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only
with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would
be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be
sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become
responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to
remember.
[SOURCE: https://bit.ly/3ArvKDU]

ASSESSMENT
1. Create a Venn Diagram distinguishing three (3) differences and similarities
between the Fox and the Little Prince.
2. Was the Little Prince able to ―tame‖ the Fox? Why did you say so?
3. ―It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible
to the eye.‖ What is your own interpretation of this? What do you think are
those things that only the heart can see? And why do you think so?
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LESSON 5: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth
LESSON OUTCOMES
a. determine the rhyme scheme of the poem;
b. analyze the symbolisms depicted in the poem; and
c. reflect on the connection between us and nature similar to the circumstance
limned in the poem;
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
William Wordsworth (1770–1850), the son of an attorney, grew up in the Lake District
of England. After graduating from Cambridge University in 1791, he spent a year in
France, falling in love with a French girl, with whom he had a daughter. His
enthusiasm for the French Revolution waned, and he returned alone to England,
where, with the help of a legacy, he devoted his life to poetry. With his friend Samuel
Taylor Coleridge, in 1798 he published anonymously a volume of poetry, Lyrical
Ballads, which changed the course of English poetry. In 1799 he and his sister
Dorothy settled in Grasmere in the Lake District, where he married and was given the
office of distributor of stamps. In 1843 he was appointed poet laureate.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

ASSESSMENT
Directions: Have fun answering the following question.
1. What is the rhyme scheme of the poem?
2. What does the speaker mean about the daffodils?
3. What is a cloud lonely? What could the speaker mean when he says about
this?
4. Do you believe that everyone has an ―inward eye?‖
5. Have you ever made an observation that caused you to feel the type of
connection to nature that the speaker feels? Explain.
49 | P a g e

Chapter 2: English and European Literature: GE 121 - Great Books

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