As an additional activity, we read and discussed Sonnet 130 and then listened to 3 different readings of the poem that clearly portrayed different tones. With these, students were asked to identify which one best matched the author's tone and explain WHY.
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Finally, I had the students write their own potion. Using vocabulary, connotation, and sensory language, the mood of their writing should reflect the intended purpose of the brew for the assignment. For added fun, we kept their potions' purpose secret and saw if we could guess their intention based on the ingredients. This brings us back to tone and provides distinction between how we feel and the author's intent.
A strip of Harry Potter's invisibility cloak,
A white gummy bears brain,
A pair of blind eyes,
Add some water,
and a drop of ghost tears.
Double Double unseen trouble,
ghosts sway and something bubbles.
Tuft of Justin Bieber's hair
Throw a wrecking ball in there
Smudge of make-up from Kimye
Gaga meat dress boil away
Brittney's mugshot, Charlie's too
Add Lindsay's record to the goo
Double, double, celebrity trouble
Twitter tweets and gossip bubble
add one red roses petal,
for every year you've loved them,
then add another for the future.
Write a poem,
an epic of your heart,
then feed it to the growing brew.
a hint of tears,
and a few laughs,
to make life with them more balanced.
Then add a silver dream of your life together,
but don't over do it,
or your plan will go to ruin.
Finally heat it all over a family fireplace,
during the winter holidays,
to add a little extra cheer and togetherness.
For one last final touch,
be sure you know them well,
make sure your sure that their the one,
and you might not need this lovely spell.
You don’t know about me, without you have read a book by the name of “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,” but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied, one time or another, without it was Aunty Polly—Tom’s Aunt Polly, she is—and Mary, and the Widow Douglas, is all told about in that book—which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before.
Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge Signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail.