SCERT Maharashtra Question Bank solutions for 10th Standard SSC English Third Language Maharashtra State Board 2021 chapter 3 - Section 3: Poetry [Latest edition]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost

Today on a bus, I saw a lovely girl with silken hair
I envied her, she seemed so gay, and I wished I was so fair
When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle
She had one leg and wore a crutch, but as she passed - a smile
O God, forgive me when I whine I
have two legs, the world is mine

And then I stopped to buy some sweets, The lad who sold them had such charm
I talked with him, he seemed so calm, and if I were late, it would do no harm,
And as I left he said to me “I thank you, you have been so kind”
It’s nice to talk with folks like you. You see, I’m blind
O God forgive me when I whine
I have two eyes, the world is mine

The Twins

In form and feature, face and limb,
I grew so like my brother,
That folks got taking me for him,
And each for one another.
It puzzled all our kith and kin,
It reached a fearful pitch;
For one of us was born a twin,
Yet not a soul knew which.

One day, to make the matter worse,
Before our names were fixed,
As we were being washed by a nurse,
We got completely mixed;
And thus, you see, by fate’s decree,
Or rather nurse’s whim,
My brother John got christened me,
And I got christened him.

This fatal likeness even dogged
My footsteps, when at school,
And I was always getting flogged,
For John turned out a fool.
I put this question, fruitlessly,
To everyone I knew,
‘What would you do, if you were me,
To prove that you were you?’

Our close resemblance turned the tide
Of my domestic life,
For somehow, my intended bride
Became my brother's wife.
In fact, year after year the same
Absurd mistakes went on,
And when I died, the neighbours came
And buried brother John.

                     - Henry Sambrooke Leigh