QUESTIONS AND A+ GRADED
ANSWERS
Robert Frost (1874-1963) - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅Was an American poet. His work
was initially published in England before it was published in America. He is highly regarded for
his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.
Podcasts - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅a digital audio file made available on the internet for
downloading to a computer or mobile device, typically available as a series, new installments of
which can be received by subscribers automatically
Algorithms - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅a process or set of rules to be followed in
calculations or other problem-solving operations, especially by a computer.
Horace - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅Roman lyric poet during the time of Augustus, said to
have influenced English poetry (65-8 BC)
Ode I. 11 - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅Leucon, no one's allowed to know his fate,
Not you, not me: don't ask, don't hunt for answers
In tea leaves or palms. Be patient with whatever comes.
This could be our last winter, it could be many
More, pounding the Tuscan Sea on these rocks:
Do what you must, be wise, cut your vines
And forget about hope. Time goes running, even
As we talk. Take the present, the future's no one's affair.
Ode I.11 - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅Was written by Horace
, William Butler Yeats - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅An Irish poet, dramatist and writer, and
one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature.
"The Second Coming" (1919) - CORRECT ANSWER✅✅✅Turning and turning in the
widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?