When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found enough to make a rich strike. But I did discover a beautiful part of the country called Stanislau. Like Heaven on Earth, it had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees. By the time I arrived, the charming paradise had been deserted because miners’ good luck didn’t last.

Then, I realized I was not alone after all.

A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of his little house. Its front yard was full of blue and yellow flowers. White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.

Still smiling, the man invited me inside. My spirit seemed to come to life again. I saw a bright rug on the shining wooden floor. And on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home. The delight in my heart showed on my face. The man read my thoughts. “All her work.” He said affectionately, “Nothing here hasn’t felt the touch of her hand.”

One picture on the wall was not hanging straight. He went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was straight. Then he gave it a gentle touch. “She always does that,” he explained, “It is like the finishing pat a mother gives her child’s hair after she has brushed it. I don’t know why I do it. I just do it.”

As he talked, I went to a little black-walnut shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There was a sweetness and softness in the woman’s expression. The man stared at the picture. “Nineteen her last birthday. That was the day we married. When you see her...ah, just wait until you meet her!” “Where is she now?” I asked. “Oh, she is away visiting her parents. This is Wednesday,” he said slowly. “She will be back on Saturday, in the evening.”

That night, I stayed. The man told me his name was Henry.

Thursday evening we had two visitors, Tom and Joe. “We just drop over to ask when little madam is coming home. Any news from her?” “Oh yes,” the man replied. “A letter.” He took a yellowed letter out of his wallet and read it. It was full of loving messages. While reading, he glimpsed his friends and cried out, “Oh no, you are doing it again, Tom! Take your hands away and let me see your eyes. I’m going to tell her this time!” “No, you mustn’t do that, Henry,” the grey-haired miner said. “I am getting old. And any little sorrow makes me cry. Lord, we miss her so.”

Saturday finally came.

I was glad to see his two friends, Tom and Joe, with guitars, coming down the road as the sun began to set. They put the flowers they brought in vases and began to play some fast and lively songs.

Henry’s friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey. When I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, Tom stopped my arm. “Drop that! Take the other.” he whispered. I did so. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his drink when the clock struck midnight. His face grew pale and paler. “Boys,” he said, “I am sick with fear. Help! I want to lie down.” Henry was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth.

In a moment, those handy men had his clothes off and tucked him into his bed. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. So I said, “Please don’t go, gentlemen. She won’t know me. I am a stranger.” They glanced at each other. Then Joe said, “She? Poor thing, she’s been dead nineteen years!” “Dead?” I whispered. “That or worse.” he said.

“She went to see her folks half a year after she got married. On her way back, on a Saturday evening in June, when she was almost here, the Indians captured her. She’s never been heard of since. Henry went insane. But he only gets bad when that time of year comes round. Then we drop in here, three days before she’s due, to encourage him up and listen to him read the letter. Saturday we all come and get everything ready for a dance. We’ve done it for nineteen years. The first Saturday there were twenty-seven of us, but only two now. We drug him to sleep through the night. Then he’s all right for another year.”

The two old men opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of Stanislau.

1.You can sense the existence of a woman from the following sentences EXCEPT “______”.

A. Soft winds touched the trees in Stanislau.

B. There was a bright rug on the shining wooden floor.

C. There were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers.

D. A little black shelf held a small picture of a woman.

2.Tom cried when Henry read the yellowed letter, because ______.

A. he was getting older and older

B. he was moved by the loving messages in the letter

C. he felt sad at the thought of Henry’s wife

D. he was disappointed that Henry’s wife would arrive so late

3.Tom stopped my reaching for whiskey because ______.

A. there was not enough whiskey for Henry                B. he didn’t want me to get drunk

C. that glass of whiskey was drugged                    D. it was for Henry’s wife

4.The underlined word “insane” probably means “______”.

A. depressed                   B. disappointed            C. mad                 D. sick

5.It can be inferred from the passage that ______.

A. Henry’s wife was 38 when she was last seen

B. Tom and Joe have heard the letter many times

C. the author stayed in Henry’s house because he was lost

D. the two miners came on Saturday to share past memories

6.The story is mainly about ______.

A. ever-lasting love                                                      B. lifelong friendship

C. an unforgettable experience                                               D. charming Stanislau

When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found enough to make a rich strike. But I did discover a beautiful part of the country called Stanislau. Like Heaven on Earth, it had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees. By the time I arrived, the charming paradise had been deserted because miners’ good luck didn’t last.

Then, I realized I was not alone after all.

A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of his little house. Its front yard was full of blue and yellow flowers. White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.

Still smiling, the man invited me inside. My spirit seemed to come to life again. I saw a bright rug on the shining wooden floor. And on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home. The delight in my heart showed on my face. The man read my thoughts. “All her work.” He said affectionately, “Nothing here hasn’t felt the touch of her hand.”

One picture on the wall was not hanging straight. He went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was straight. Then he gave it a gentle touch. “She always does that,” he explained, “It is like the finishing pat a mother gives her child’s hair after she has brushed it. I don’t know why I do it. I just do it.”

As he talked, I went to a little black-walnut shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There was a sweetness and softness in the woman’s expression. The man stared at the picture. “Nineteen her last birthday. That was the day we married. When you see her...ah, just wait until you meet her!” “Where is she now?” I asked. “Oh, she is away visiting her parents. This is Wednesday,” he said slowly. “She will be back on Saturday, in the evening.”

That night, I stayed. The man told me his name was Henry.

Thursday evening we had two visitors, Tom and Joe. “We just drop over to ask when little madam is coming home. Any news from her?” “Oh yes,” the man replied. “A letter.” He took a yellowed letter out of his wallet and read it. It was full of loving messages. While reading, he glimpsed his friends and cried out, “Oh no, you are doing it again, Tom! Take your hands away and let me see your eyes. I’m going to tell her this time!” “No, you mustn’t do that, Henry,” the grey-haired miner said. “I am getting old. And any little sorrow makes me cry. Lord, we miss her so.”

Saturday finally came.

I was glad to see his two friends, Tom and Joe, with guitars, coming down the road as the sun began to set. They put the flowers they brought in vases and began to play some fast and lively songs.

Henry’s friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey. When I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, Tom stopped my arm. “Drop that! Take the other.” he whispered. I did so. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his drink when the clock struck midnight. His face grew pale and paler. “Boys,” he said, “I am sick with fear. Help! I want to lie down.” Henry was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth.

In a moment, those handy men had his clothes off and tucked him into his bed. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. So I said, “Please don’t go, gentlemen. She won’t know me. I am a stranger.” They glanced at each other. Then Joe said, “She? Poor thing, she’s been dead nineteen years!” “Dead?” I whispered. “That or worse.” he said.

“She went to see her folks half a year after she got married. On her way back, on a Saturday evening in June, when she was almost here, the Indians captured her. She’s never been heard of since. Henry went insane. But he only gets bad when that time of year comes round. Then we drop in here, three days before she’s due, to encourage him up and listen to him read the letter. Saturday we all come and get everything ready for a dance. We’ve done it for nineteen years. The first Saturday there were twenty-seven of us, but only two now. We drug him to sleep through the night. Then he’s all right for another year.”

The two old men opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of Stanislau.

55. You can sense the existence of a woman from the following sentences EXCEPT “______”.

A. Soft winds touched the trees in Stanislau.

B. There was a bright rug on the shining wooden floor.

C. There were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers.

D. A little black shelf held a small picture of a woman.

56. Tom cried when Henry read the yellowed letter, because ______.

A. he was getting older and older

B. he was moved by the loving messages in the letter

C. he felt sad at the thought of Henry’s wife

D. he was disappointed that Henry’s wife would arrive so late

57. Tom stopped my reaching for whiskey because ______.

A. there was not enough whiskey for Henry          B. he didn’t want me to get drunk

C. that glass of whiskey was drugged                  D. it was for Henry’s wife

58. The underlined word “insane” probably means “______”.

A. depressed                B. disappointed       C. mad            D. sick

59. It can be inferred from the passage that ______.

A. Henry’s wife was 38 when she was last seen

B. Tom and Joe have heard the letter many times

C. the author stayed in Henry’s house because he was lost

D. the two miners came on Saturday to share past memories

60. The story is mainly about ______.

A. ever-lasting love                                         B. lifelong friendship

C. an unforgettable experience                             D. charming Stanislau

Poet Dean Young has dealt with impermanence（ 无常）a lot in his career, but it's a particularly strong theme in Young's latest collection, Fall Higher.The new collection was published in April, just days after the poet received a life-saving heart transplant （移植） after about a decade of living with a weakening heart condition.
Young, whose work is often frank and rich with twisted humor, tells NPR's Renee Montaigne that as he recovers from operation, he's also slowly returning to his everyday writing habits.
"I'm getting back to it," Young says."Not with the sort of concentration and sort of flame that I look forward to in the future, but I am blackening some pages."
And on those blackened pages you'll find poems like " How Grasp Green," which carries themes of springtime and rebirth.It's one of the first poems Young has written since his transplant.
It's easy to spot clues （线索） to Young's awful health situation in the lines of his poetry. Fall Higher's "Vintage" opens with, "Because I will die soon, I fall asleep, during the lecture on the ongoing emergency." And the poem "-The Rhythms Pronounce Themselves Then Vanish—published in The /Vew Barker in February —opens with the CT scan that revealed Young's heart condition.
Young says "Rhythms" was written about the beginning of his illness.
"I had been having a lot of physical pain so that I could hardly walk a block.I got sent to a gastroenterologist and he did a series of tests, and then the tests came back to me and it was all heart related," he says." And the outlook wasn't good.
Hearts tend to come up a lot in poetry, and that's especially true of Young's work, which has clearly been influenced by the troubles of his own heart,
"A lot of times, it's not just a metaphor （比喻） ," Young says."For me, it's an actual concern because I've been living with this disease for over 10 years.My father died of heart problems when he was 49, so it's been a sort of shadowy concern for me my whole life.
But Young's poems also deal with more abstract matters of the heart.He wrote Fall Higher's, "Late Valentine" for his wife."We've been married since late November and most of it has been spent in the hospital," Young says of his marriage to poet Laurie Saurborn Young, who says " 'Late Valentine' is very sweet.
Today, Young says, his friends can't help but comment on how pink his cheeks have become—the result of a new heart and better circulation （循环）.But Young wrote the poems of Fall Higher before the transplant, at a time when, at its weakest point, his old heart was pumping at 8 percent of what it should have been.
He was staring death in the face—but he was still able to look at his life and see art
in it.
Young's work also touches on themes of randomness and fate —two factors that contributed to him getting a second chance in the form of a new heart from a 22-year-old student.
"Everything in life is molecules （分子） bouncing against molecules," Young says, and having a successful transplant is no different." Somebody had to die; it had to be a fit; my blood and his blood had to not have an argument; the heart had to be transported; I had to get it."
There were, in short, an amazing number of variables （变量） that led to Young
being here today.
"I just feel enormous gratitude," he says of his donor （捐献者）."He gave me a heart so I'm still alive-"I'm sure I'm going to think about this person for the rest of my life."

1. 1.

   The poetry collection Fall Higher _______.

   1. A.
      was published in February
   2. B.
      refers darkness as its main theme
   3. C.
      is Young's latest collection of poetry
   4. D.
      was written after Young's heart transplant
2. 2.

   We can learn from the text that Young _______.

   1. A.
      was born with heart disease
   2. B.
      received a heart transplant in February
   3. C.
      married a female poet after he wrote "Late Valentine"
   4. D.
      wrote a poem for his wife in his collection
3. 3.

   What does the writer try to say in Paragraph 3?

   1. A.
      The writer expected some bright future, but he was disappointed.
   2. B.
      The writer had less enthusiasm than before, but he still kept on writing.
   3. C.
      The writer devoted more time to poems, so he grasped a good chance.
   4. D.
      The writer wrote poems with less enthusiasm, so he quitted for a while.
4. 4.

   Which of the following statements is TRUE?

   1. A.
      "How Grasp Green" is the first poem in Fall Higher.
   2. B.
      Young began all his poems with his illness.
   3. C.
      Young's father died when Young was 49 years old.
   4. D.
      Young's health situation is mentioned in his poetry.
5. 5.

   What is the text mainly about?

   1. A.
      Dean Young and his latest collection.
   2. B.
      Dean Young and his heart problems.
   3. C.
      The meaning of Fall Higher.
   4. D.
      An analysis of Dean Young's poems.