4.	According to stanza 3, what are the end results of the actions of “She” and “I” in “Song”?

poem:
she sat and sang alway
by the green margin of a stream,
watching the fishes leap and play
beneath the glad sunbeam.

I sat and wept away
beneath the moon's most shadowy beam,
watching the blossoms of the may
weep leaves into the stream.

I wept for memory;
she sang for hope that is so fair;
my tears were swallowed by the sea;
her songs died on the air

5.	Describe the changes undergone by the person described in “Dead Before Death.”

poem:
Ah! changed and cold, how changed and very cold,
  With stiffened smiling lips and cold calm eyes:
  Changed, yet the same; much knowing, little wise;
This was the promise of the days of old!
Grown hard and stubborn in the ancient mould,
  Grown rigid in the sham of lifelong lies:
  We hoped for better things as years would rise,
But it is over as a tale once told.
All fallen the blossom that no fruitage bore,
  All lost the present and the future time,
All lost, all lost, the lapse that went before:
So lost till death shut-to the opened door,
  So lost from chime to everlasting chime,
So cold and lost for ever evermore.

7.	What “same one meaning” (8) is meant by “every canvass” (7) in “In an Artist’s Studio”?

8.	What contrasting versions of the woman are depicted in the last three lines of “In an Artist’s Studio”?

poem:
One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel -- every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

10.	What does the first-person narrator “fancy” (12) might happen to this woman some day?

Ten years ago it seemed impossible
That she should ever grow so calm as this,
With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
Slow-speaking when she had some fact to tell,
Silent with long-unbroken silences,
Centered in self yet not unpleased to please,
Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
Mindful of drudging daily common things,
Patient at pastime, patient at her work,
Wearied perhaps but strenuous certainly.
(12)Sometimes I fancy we may one day see
Her head shoot forth seven stars from where they lurk
And her eyes lightnings and her shoulders wings.