Reading Standards for Literature > Language, Sound, and Meaning (CCSS.RL.7.4) Practice Test

1 The river threads the city like a quiet thought, 2 A silver sentence curving where the bridges cross. 3 Morning unpacks its pale, deliberate light, 4 And windows yawn; the streets rub sleep like sand.

5 The current hums, a crowded choir of ripples, 6 It carries leaf and letter, rumor and reflection. 7 Brick by brick, the banks keep their cool resolve, 8 While buses breathe and bicycles begin to buzz.

9 I keep my pace, a novice to this bright routine, 10 My doubts like pigeons flutter, then ascend. 11 The crosswalk's ticking syllables shepherd feet; 12 I hold my tongue and listen to the town.

13 A draft slips down the tunnel, cool as coins; 14 Posters shout in color, promises on loop. 15 Under the tracks, shadows contract and stretch, 16 A folding, unfolding map of noon.

17 Somewhere a vendor sings of peaches, perfect, pure, 18 The vowels long and lazy as late June. 19 Neon needles stitch the nameless side-streets, 20 Threading dusk to doorways, sign to sigh.

21 By evening, roofs exhale their stored-up heat, 22 The river answers, glittering, then dark. 23 I claim a bench and watch the city breathe, 24 Its lungs of glass repeating light and light.

1 The river threads the city like a quiet thought, 2 A silver sentence curving where the bridges cross. 3 Morning unpacks its pale, deliberate light, 4 And windows yawn; the streets rub sleep like sand.

5 The current hums, a crowded choir of ripples, 6 It carries leaf and letter, rumor and reflection. 7 Brick by brick, the banks keep their cool resolve, 8 While buses breathe and bicycles begin to buzz.

9 I keep my pace, a novice to this bright routine, 10 My doubts like pigeons flutter, then ascend. 11 The crosswalk's ticking syllables shepherd feet; 12 I hold my tongue and listen to the town.

13 A draft slips down the tunnel, cool as coins; 14 Posters shout in color, promises on loop. 15 Under the tracks, shadows contract and stretch, 16 A folding, unfolding map of noon.

17 Somewhere a vendor sings of peaches, perfect, pure, 18 The vowels long and lazy as late June. 19 Neon needles stitch the nameless side-streets, 20 Threading dusk to doorways, sign to sigh.

21 By evening, roofs exhale their stored-up heat, 22 The river answers, glittering, then dark. 23 I claim a bench and watch the city breathe, 24 Its lungs of glass repeating light and light.