Question

You talk of wondrous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright; ;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Then make it day or night?
a) Who is the speaker of these lines?​

Answer 1

Answer:

The headmaster entered the class with a slightly flushed face and a hard

ominous look in his eyes. Swaminathan wished that he had been anywhere but there at

that moment. The headmaster surveyed the class for a few minutes and asked, ‘Are you

not ashamed of coming and sitting there after what you did yesterday?’ Just as a special

honour to them, he read out the names of a dozen students or so that had attended the

class. After that he read out the names of those that had kept away, and asked them to

stand on their benches. He felt that punishment was not enough and asked them to

stand on their desks. Swaminathan was among them and felt humiliated at that

eminence. Then they were lectured. When it was over, they were asked to offer

explanations one by one. One said that he had an attack of a headache and therefore

could not come to school. He was asked to bring a medical certificate.

The second said that while he had been coming to school on the previous day,

someone had told him that there would be no school, and he had gone back home. The

headmaster replied that if he was going to listen to every loafer who said there would

be no school, he deserved to be flogged. Anyway, why did he not come to school and

verify? No answer. The punishment was pronounced: ten days’ attendance cancelled,

two rupees fine, and the whole day to be spent on the desk. The third said that he had

an attack of a headache. The fourth said that he had stomach ache. The fifth said that his

grandmother died suddenly just as he was starting for school. The headmaster asked

Explanation:

thanks my answer....

Answer 2

Colley Cibber has spoken this lines.

it's a poem named 'the blind boy'.

The Blind Boy

By: Colley Cibber

O say what is that thing call’d Light,

Which I must ne’er enjoy;

What are the blessings of the sight,

O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you see,

You say the sun shines bright; ;

I feel him warm, but how can he

Then make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make

Whene’er I sleep or play;

And could I ever keep awake

With me ’twere always day.

With heavy sighs I often hear

You mourn my hapless woe;

But sure with patience I can bear

A loss I ne’er can know.

Then let not what I cannot have

My cheer of mind destroy;

Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,

Although a poor blind boy.