Read the poem by anne bradstreet. thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain, who after birth did'st by my side remain, till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, who thee abroad exposed to public view; made thee in rags, halting, to the press to trudge 5 where errors were not lessened, all may judge. at thy return my blushing was not small, my rambling brat (in print) should mother call; i cast thee by as one unfit for light, thy visage was so irksome in my sight; 10 yet being mine own, at length affection would thy blemishes amend, if so i could: i washed thy face, but more defects i saw, and rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw. i stretch thy joints to make thee even feet, 15 yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet; in better dress to trim thee was my mind, but nought save homespun cloth, in the house i find. in this array, 'mongst vulgars may'st thou roam; in criticks hands beware thou dost not come; 20 and take thy way where yet thou are not known. if for thy father asked, say thou had'st none; and for thy mother, she alas is poor, which caused her thus to send thee out of door. what base meter and line length are used? meter: line length:

In this excerpt from "quality" by john galsworthy, which two parts clearly indicate the literary point of view of the essay? that tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the royal family—merely his own german name of gessler brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. i remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. had he bought them to put there? that, too, seemed inconceivable. he would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. besides, they were too beautiful—the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one's mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvellous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the soul of boot—so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. these thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when i was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. for to make boots—such boots as he made—seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.