DO NOT OPEN UNTIL
YOU SIT DOWN FOR YOUR 40 MINUTE SESSION.
#2 Be detailed!
The more specifically you can discuss the text you’re analyzing (i.e., evidence
AND explanations!), the stronger your essay will be.
#3 Stay focused
and organized.
(Suggested
time--40 minutes. This question counts one-third of the total essay
section score.)
Read the
following poem carefully. Then write an essay in which you discuss how
such elements as language, imagery, structure, and point of view convey meaning
in the poem.
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The Centaur* |
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The summer that I was ten-- |
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stopped and raised my knees, |
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Can it be there was only one |
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pawed at the ground and quivered. |
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summer that I was ten? It must |
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My teeth bared as we wheeled |
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have been a long one then-- |
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and swished through the dust again. |
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each day I'd go out to choose |
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I was the horse and the rider, |
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a fresh horse from my stable |
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and the leather I slapped to his rump |
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which was a willow grove |
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spanked my own behind. |
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down by the old canal. |
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Doubled, my two hoofs beat |
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I'd go on my two bare feet. |
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a gallop along the bank, |
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But when, with my brother's jack-knife, |
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the wind twanged in my mane, |
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I had cut me a long limber horse |
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my mouth squared to the bit. |
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with a good thick knob for a head, |
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And yet I sat on my steed |
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and peeled him slick and clean |
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quiet, negligent riding, |
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except a few leaves for the tail, |
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my toes standing the stirrups, |
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and cinched my brother's belt |
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my thighs hugging his ribs. |
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around his head for a rein, |
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At a walk we drew up to the porch. |
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I'd straddle and canter him fast |
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I tethered him to a paling. |
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up the grass bank to the path, |
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Dismounting, I smoothed my skirt |
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trot along in the lovely dust |
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and entered the dusky hall. |
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that talcumed over his hoofs, |
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My feet on the clean linoleum |
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hiding my toes, and turning |
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left ghostly toes in the hall. |
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his feet to swift half-moons. |
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Where have you been? said my mother. |
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The willow knob with the strap |
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Been riding, I said from the sink, |
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jouncing between my thighs. |
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and filled me a glass of water. |
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was the pommel and yet the poll |
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What's that in your pocket? she said. |
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of my nickering pony's head. |
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Just my knife. It weighted my pocket |
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My head and my neck were mine, |
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and stretched my dress awry. |
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yet they were shaped like a horse. |
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Go tie back your hair, said my mother, |
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My hair flopped to the side |
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and Why is your mouth all green? |
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like the mane of a horse in the wind. |
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Rob Roy, he pulled some clover |
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as we crossed the field, I told her. |
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My forelock swung in my eyes, |
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my neck arched and I snorted. |
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--May Swenson |
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I shied and skittered and reared. |
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* A creature in
Greek mythology that had the body of a horse and the head and torso of a man.