ENGL 102W Study Guide - Final Guide: Mensch, Iambic Pentameter, Ella Reeve Bloor

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Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. I"d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he"d call, and slowly i would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. I was much further out than you thought. It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life. Stone fences lined the road to the art academy in lyme. The teacher unscrolled the butcher paper on the floor, told me to lie down.

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