Name: Date: Class Period:

English 3 Spring Semester Exam Review

Vocabulary: Define the following terms on notebook paper. Include the part of speech (i.e., noun, verb, adjective, etc.)

Simile Metaphor Personification Tone Connotation Irony

Consonance Hyperbole Diction Allusion Onomatopoeia

Assonance Figurative Language Syntax Anaphora

Poetry Analysis: Below are questions you will need to answer regarding poetry analysis. You may use outside resources to get your information.

1. What is the strategy we use to analyze poetry? What do each of its letters stand for? 2. What is the difference between enjambed and end-stopped lines of poetry? 3. What is rhyme scheme? 4. To find the rhyme scheme, what words do you focus on? 5. What is internal rhyme? 6. What is the most important part to remember about Theme? 7. When creating a black out poem, what words are left behind?

TP-CASTT Analysis: The following poems may be on your semester exam. Analyze them using TP-CASTT.

miss rosie Lucille Clifton when I watch you wrapped up like garbage sitting, surrounded by the smell of too old potato peels or when I watch you in your old man's shoes with the little toe cut out sitting, waiting for your mind like next week's grocery I say when I watch you you wet brown bag of a woman who used to be the best looking gal in Georgia used to be called the Georgia Rose I stand up through your destruction I stand up

the sonnet‐ballad Gwendolyn Brooks Oh mother, mother, where is happiness? They took my lover's tallness off to war, Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guess What I can use an empty heart‐cup for. He won't be coming back here any more. Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew When he went walking grandly out that door That my sweet love would have to be untrue. Would have to be untrue. Would have to court Coquettish death, whose impudent and strange Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort) Can make a hard man hesitate‐‐and change. And he will be the one to stammer, "Yes." Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?

Aftermath Siegfried Sassoon

Have you forgotten yet?... For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days, Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city‐ways: And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go, Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare. But the past is just the same‐and War’s a bloody game...

Have you forgotten yet?...

Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you’ll never

forget. Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz– The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets? Do you remember the rats; and the stench Of corpses rotting in front of the front‐line trench‐ And dawn coming, dirty‐white, and chill with a hopeless rain? Do you ever stop and ask, ‘Is it all going to happen again?’ Do you remember that hour of din before the attack– And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men? Do you remember the stretcher‐cases lurching back With dying eyes and lolling heads—those ashen‐grey Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet?...

Look up, and swear by the green of

the spring that you’ll never forget.

The Summer I Was Sixteen Geraldine Connolly The turquoise pool rose up to meet us, its slide a silver afterthought down which we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles. We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy. Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted up from ladder rungs across the fern‐cool lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated, we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete, danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl". Past cherry colas, hot‐dogs, Dreamsicles, we came to the counter where bees staggered into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses, shared on benches beneath summer shadows. Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears, mouthing the old words, then loosened thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance through the chain link at an improbable world.