This poem is about teaching English and conveys powerful emotions through observation of small, almost banal details: shoes in shoe shops, bright dresses, the artificial language of an English lesson.

The Bright Dresses

Instructions

Do the Preparation task first. Then go to Text and read the poem or story (you can also listen to the audio while you read). Next go to Task and do the activity.

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The bright dresses

After your addio - breathless, banal, the click
of the telephone, I came out into Corso Vittorio
Emmanuele. Milan's glorious main street:
rows of posh shoe shops, buckles and toecaps
on tip toe behind thick glass; at the end of the
boulevard the cathedral spires like the tails of
old seahorses: rigid, brittle and upside down;
sunlight all round me in a hot, close envelope,
with its smell of coffee and expensive briefcases;
words on the air from the English lesson I had
just been teaching: "Sylvia never arrives late.
Tom loves pop music and small dogs."
This is the present simple for habit. It goes on
and on I was saying. Then down the road
they came: three bright dresses in yellow, pink
and peacock blue, blurring to blobs of floating
colour inside the tears in my eyes. They jangled
the words, advanced unbearably bright towards
me: Sylvia loves pop music. Tom never arrives
late. Small dogs. Small dogs. Never. Loves.

by Robert Seatter

With kind permission of the poet, previously published in Poetry as a Foreign Language, edited by Martin Bates, White Adder Press, 1999

Task 1

Select the best answer to each question.

Exercise

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I think it is a love story end and the teacher thinks in Sylvia and Tom they are a happy couple and
they love pop music, they share things, but the teacher is alone.

thak you very much

very hard vocabulary

I got out of Victoria Station, managed to reach the opposite pavement through the pedestrian crossings and the countless red double-decker buses, struggled with a bus timetable and wrote down awkwardly some bus numbers on a colored flyer.
I jumped into the bus and sat down, as usual, on top level. There, I let my breath out a bit and thought, why after decades, I am still as excited, impressed, overwhelmed by this strange feeling, thinking about Dickens novels and an impossible parallel with this apparent modern town? I looked down on the street, towards this formidable mixed people, at the window shops and sadly realised I have got the same in Paris, tried to find a typical old pub according to my current nostalgia. Down from the bus at Covent Garden, I stumbled on a dog that can understand English.

i find that so interesting Tank You so Much

There are so many words I donot know。

I don't like it