Write a parallel sentence using the word retain

Read the selection below and answer the question. an open boat by alfred noyes o, what is that whimpering there in the darkness? 

 'let him lie in my arms. he is breathing, i know.
 look. i'll wrap all my hair round his neck' – the sea's rising,
 the boat must be lightened. he's dead. he must go.' 


 see - quick - by that flash, where the bitter foam tosses, 
 the cloud of white faces, in the black open boat, 
 and the wild pleading woman that clasps her dead lover 
 and wraps her loose hair round his breast and his throat.
 'come, lady, he's dead.' - 'no, i feel his heart beating,
 he's living, i know. but he's numbed with the cold. 
 see, i'm wrapping my hair all around him to warm him.' -
- 'no. we can't keep the dead, dear. come, loosen your hold.

 'come. loosen your fingers.' - 'o god, let me keep him! ' -
 o, hide it, black night! let the winds have their way! 
 and there are no voices or ghosts from that darkness, 
 to fret the bare seas at the breaking of day. the shift in the poem’s rhythm in the last stanza signifies a resolution to the conflict that the poem is a sonnet the speaker’s confusion an irregular rhyme scheme

Choose one group member who participated in your discussion. in 100-150 words, evaluate the effectiveness of their main argument and supporting evidence. using your notes, explain whether or not their claims were developed well, what evidence they used to support their claim, and how well they responded to the prompt. is there anything they could have done to be more effective? if so, what was it?

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream