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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.…For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils. Define the poet"s theory of poetry with the analysis of the quoted passage.

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It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray, and see if I couldn"t try to quit being the kind of a boy I was and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words wouldn"t come. Why wouldn"t they It warn"t no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from ME, neither. I knowed very well why they wouldn"t come. It was because my heart warn"t right; it was because I warn"t square; it was because I was playing double. I was letting On to give up sin, but away inside of me I was holding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth SAY I would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to that nigger"s owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie, and He knowed it. You can"t pray a lie—I found that out.So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn"t know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I"ll go and write the letter—and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile belowPiKesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send.HUCK FINN.I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn"t do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking—thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn"t seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind, I"d see him standing my watch on top of his " n, " stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the ONLY one he"s got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I"d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then say to myself; "All right, then, I"ll GO to hell"—and tore it up. Identify the author and the work from which the passage is selected.

It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray, and see if I couldn"t try to quit being the kind of a boy I was and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words wouldn"t come. Why wouldn"t they It warn"t no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from ME, neither. I knowed very well why they wouldn"t come. It was because my heart warn"t right; it was because I warn"t square; it was because I was playing double. I was letting On to give up sin, but away inside of me I was holding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth SAY I would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to that nigger"s owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie, and He knowed it. You can"t pray a lie—I found that out.So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn"t know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I"ll go and write the letter—and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile belowPiKesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send.HUCK FINN.I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn"t do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking—thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn"t seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind, I"d see him standing my watch on top of his " n, " stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the ONLY one he"s got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I"d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then say to myself; "All right, then, I"ll GO to hell"—and tore it up. Define the literary school/ trend to which the author belongs

Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again! "" Silence! " ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one of the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed, but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top of one table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I looked in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was not visible: Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat, and a strange, foreign -looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, as I afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board. A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burnt porridge is almost as; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished. Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom. I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one, whispered—" Abominable stuff" How shameful! "The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girl with whom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace by Miss Scatcherd from a history lass, and sent to stand in the middle of the large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a high degree ignominious, especially for so great a girl—she looked thirteen or upwards, I expected she would show signs of great distress and shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed, though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes. " How can she bear it so quietly—so firmly I asked of myself. Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me up. She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond her punishment—beyond her situation: of something not round her nor before her. I have heard of day-dreams—is she in a day-dream now Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it—her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart: she is looking at what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present. I wonder what sort of a girl she is—whether good or naughty.Soon after five P. M. we had another meal, consisting of a small mug of coffee, and half a slice of brown bread. I devoured my bread and drank my coffee with relish, but I should have been glad of as much more—I was still hungry. Half an hour"s recreation succeeded, then study; then the glass of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers, and bed. Such was my first day at Lowood. Why the book is regarded as a great novel

How do you interpret the death of Willy Loman in Arthur Miller"s famous play Death of a Salesman？ Please discuss the factors that contribute to Willy"s death.