Question

With chips and sun and love tempting then to steal
For lives that slyly turn in their cramped holes
From tog to endless night? On their slag heap, these children
Wear skins peeped through by bones
and spectacles of steel
With mended glass, like bottle bits on stones
All of their time and space are foggy slum
So blot their maps with slums as big as doom.
Unless, govemor, inspector visitor
This map becomes their window and these windows,
That what upon their lives like catacombs,
Break o break open till they break the town
And show the children to green fields,
and make the world
Run mure on gold sands, and let their tongues
Run naked into books the white and green leaves open
History theirs whose language is the sun
[1x4-41
2
Q.23
Lives that slyly turn in their cramped holes from fog to endless
(a) day
(b) night
(c) morning
(d) evening​

Answer 1

Answer:

B

Explanation:

OPTION B IS CORRECT

THAT IS NIGHT