| Hint | Answer | % Correct |
|---|---|---|
| Ozymandias | I met a traveller from an antique land | 40%
|
| Remains | his bloody life in my bloody hands | 36%
|
| Exposure | But nothing happens. | 28%
|
| Ozymandias | sneer of cold command | 28%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Noble six hundred! | 24%
|
| Exposure | the merciless iced east winds that knive us... | 20%
|
| War Photographer | A hundred agonies in black and white | 16%
|
| War Photographer | spools of suffering set out in ordered rows | 16%
|
| Bayonet Charge | His terror's touchy dynamite | 12%
|
| Exposure | Is it that we are dying? | 12%
|
| The Emigrée | It tastes of sunlight. | 12%
|
| Remains | probably armed, possibly not | 12%
|
| Exposure | All their eyes are ice | 8%
|
| Remains | End of story, except not really | 8%
|
| Remains | His blood-shadow stays on the street | 8%
|
| Bayonet Charge | In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nationsWas he the hand pointing that second? | 8%
|
| Remains | I see every round as it rips through his life - | 8%
|
| Ozymandias | "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" | 8%
|
| Poppies | released a song bird from its cage | 8%
|
| Ozymandias | Two vast and trunkless legs of stone | 8%
|
| Storm on the Island | We are prepared: we build our houses squat | 8%
|
| War Photographer | a half-formed ghost | 4%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | All the world wonder'd | 4%
|
| Remains | And the drink and the drugs won't flush him out | 4%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them | 4%
|
| London | Every black'ning church appals, | 4%
|
| Bayonet Charge | he almost stopped | 4%
|
| Kamikaze | Her father embarked at sunrise | 4%
|
| My Last Duchess | I gave commands;Then all smiles stopped together | 4%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Into the jaws of Death,Into the mouth of Hell | 4%
|
| London | I wander through each chartered street,Near where the chartered Thames does flow | 4%
|
| Remains | sort of inside out | 4%
|
| Bayonet Charge | Suddenly he awoke and was running - rawIn raw-seamed hot khaki | 4%
|
| London | the hapless soldier's sighRuns in blood down palace walls | 4%
|
| The Emigrée | There once was a country... | 4%
|
| War Photographer | they do not care | 4%
|
| Remains | Three of a kind all letting fly | 4%
|
| Tissue | turned into your skin. | 4%
|
| Poppies | All my wordsflattened, rolled, turned into felt | 0%
|
| Remains | and tosses his guts back into his body.Then he's carted off in the back of a lorry | 0%
|
| Ozymandias | a shatter'd visage lies | 0%
|
| Kamikaze | a shaven head full of powerful incantations | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | as if she rankedMy gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody's gift | 0%
|
| Kamikaze | a tuna, the dark prince, muscular, dangerous. | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | Bandage up me eye with me own historyBlind me to me own identity | 0%
|
| War Photographer | Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass. | 0%
|
| War Photographer | blood stained into foreign dust | 0%
|
| Bayonet Charge | Bullets smacking the belly out of the air - | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | de cow who jump over de moon | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | Dem tell me bout 1066 and all dat | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | Dem tell meDem tell me Wha dem want to tell me | 0%
|
| The Prelude | dim and determined senseOf unknown modes of being | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | E'en then would be some stooping; and I chooseNever to stoop | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | Exploding comfortably down on the cliffs | 0%
|
| War Photographer | fields which don't explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Flash'd all their sabres bare,Flash'd as they turned in air | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Half a league, half a league,Half a league onward | 0%
|
| Poppies | hoping to hearyour playground voice catching on the wind | 0%
|
| War Photographer | how he sought approvalwithout words to do what he must | 0%
|
| The Prelude | huge and mighty forms that do not live,Like living men | 0%
|
| Kamikaze | And sometimes, she said, he must have wonderedwhich had been the better way to die. | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | a yellow sunriseto the dying | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | I checking out me own historyI carving out me identity | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | I comb its hair and love its shining eyes | 0%
|
| Tissue | If buildings were paper, I might feel their drift, see how easily they fall away on a sigh, a shift | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | Nannysee-far woman of mountain dream fire-woman struggle hopeful stream to freedom river | 0%
|
| London | In every cry of every man,In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear. | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Into the valley of deathRode the six hundred | 0%
|
| Kamikaze | they treated him as though he no longer existed | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | It may be at war, it may be sick with tyrants,but I am branded by an impression of sunlight | 0%
|
| Checking Out Me History | Toussaint a slave with vision | 0%
|
| Poppies | I tracedthe inscriptions on the war memorial | 0%
|
| Ozymandias | its sculptor well those passions read | 0%
|
| The Prelude | It was an act of stealthAnd troubled pleasure | 0%
|
| Remains | I walk right over it week after week | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | Just thisOr that in you disgusts me | 0%
|
| Bayonet Charge | King, honour, human dignity, etceteraDropped like luxuries in a yelling alarm | 0%
|
| Tissue | let the daylight breakthrough capitals and monoliths | 0%
|
| Exposure | like a dull rumour of some other war | 0%
|
| Kamikaze | little fishing boatsstrung out like bunting on a green-blue translucent sea | 0%
|
| Exposure | love of God seems dying | 0%
|
| Tissue | Maps too. | 0%
|
| London | mark in every face I meetMarks of weakness, marks of woe | 0%
|
| Tissue | might fly our lives like paper kites | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | my object | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | my shadow falls as evidence of sunlight | 0%
|
| Poppies | my stomach busymaking tucks, darts, pleats | 0%
|
| The Prelude | No familiar shapesRemained, no pleasant images of trees, Of sea and sky, no colours of green fields | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | no just pretenceOf mine for a dowry will be disallowed | 0%
|
| Ozymandias | Nothing beside remains. Round the decayOf that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | Notice Neptune, though,Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me! | 0%
|
| Exposure | on us the doors are closed | 0%
|
| Tissue | pages smoothed and stroked and turnedtransparent with attention | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | 'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat' | 0%
|
| Exposure | Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces | 0%
|
| Tissue | Paper that lets the lightshine through, this is what could alter things | 0%
|
| Tissue | raise a structurenever meant to last | 0%
|
| Exposure | sentries whisper, curious, nervous | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | She looked on, and her looks went everywhere | 0%
|
| The Prelude | She was an elfin pinnace; lustilyI dipped my oars into the silent lake | 0%
|
| Exposure | Shrivelling many hands, puckering foreheads crisp | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess' cheek | 0%
|
| Remains | some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land | 0%
|
| War Photographer | Something is happening. | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | Space is a salvo.We are bombarded by the empty air | 0%
|
| Poppies | spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockadeof yellow bias binding around your blazer | 0%
|
| Poppies | steeled the softening | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Storm'd at with shot and shell | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear | 0%
|
| Exposure | Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | That child's vocabulary I carried herelike a hollow doll, opens and spills a grammar | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,Looking as if she were alive | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | the flung spray hitsThe very windows, spits like a tame cat Turned savage | 0%
|
| Poppies | the gelledblackthorns of your hair | 0%
|
| The Prelude | The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | their free city | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Theirs not to make reply,Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die | 0%
|
| Bayonet Charge | The patriotic tear that had brimmed in his eyeSweating like molten iron from the centre of his chest | 0%
|
| War Photographer | The reader's eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | there are no trees, no natural shelter | 0%
|
| The Prelude | There hung a darkness, call it solitudeOf blank desertion | 0%
|
| Tissue | the shapes that pride can make | 0%
|
| Tissue | The sun shines through their borderlines | 0%
|
| London | the youthful harlot's curseBlasts the newborn infant's tear, And blights with plagues the marriage hearse. | 0%
|
| Poppies | threwit open, the world overflowing like a treasure chest | 0%
|
| The Prelude | through the silent water stole my way | 0%
|
| The Emigrée | time rolls its tanks | 0%
|
| My Last Duchess | too soon made glad,Too easily impressed | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | Was there a man dismay'dNot tho' the soldier knew Some one had blunder'd | 0%
|
| The Charge of the Light Brigade | When can their glory fade? | 0%
|
| Ozymandias | Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed | 0%
|
| Tissue | whodied where and how, on which sepia date | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | wind dives And strafes invisibly | 0%
|
| The Prelude | with purpose of its ownAnd measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me | 0%
|
| Bayonet Charge | yellow hare that rolled like a flame | 0%
|
| Storm on the Island | you can listen to the thing you fearForgetting that it pummels your house too | 0%
|