What do you prefer I ready reading or I ready math? i personally prefer reading.

"spring, the sweet " from summer's last will and testament spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king, then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: cuckoo, jug-jug 1 , pu-we, to-witta-woo! the palm2 and may3 make country houses gay, lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe4 all day and we hear aye5 birds tune this merry lay6: cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! the fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, in every street these tunes our ears do greet: cuckoo, jugjug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! spring, the sweet spring! –thomas nashe jug-jug: sound of the nightingale palm: willow may: hawthorn pipe: play a shepherd's flute aye: always lay: song choose the sense that the poet appeals to in the last two lines of each stanza.

Read the excerpt below and answer the question. "you just don't understand," she said, as maggie and i came out to the car. "what don't i understand? " i wanted to know. "your heritage," she said, and then she turned to maggie, kissed her, and said, "you ought to try to make something of yourself, too, maggie. it's really a new day for us. but from the way you and mama still live you'd never know it." in the excerpt above, what can the reader infer about dee's opinion of her sister? she admires maggie for preserving the family traditions. she feels superior to maggie because she is uneducated. she feels sorry for maggie because of her poverty. she respects maggie because of her resilience.

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