A cloze game is a reading comprehension activity where certain words are removed from a text and you need to fill in the blanks with the correct words. This helps improve vocabulary, reading comprehension, and understanding of context.
Type In Mode
In this mode, you can:
Type your answers directly into the blank spaces
Get instant feedback as you type - correct answers show green, incorrect show red
Use the keyboard for faster input and navigation
Submit answers to check your overall progress
Drag & Drop Mode
Switch to Drag & Drop mode to:
Drag words from the word bank and drop them into blank spaces
Click on words in the bank to automatically fill blanks
Click on blanks to select or clear them
Game Features
Word Skip Selector: Choose how frequently words are removed (every 4th, 5th, 6th word, etc.)
Progress Bar: Shows your completion percentage
Color Feedback: Green for correct answers, red for incorrect ones
Audio Player: Listen to the musical arrangement while you play
Show Missing Words: View all the correct answers if you need help
Reset Game: Start over with the same poem
New Game: Get a different random poem
Print Poem: Print the poem with blanks for offline practice
Winning
When you fill all the blanks correctly, you'll see a congratulations message and confetti animation! The progress bar will show 100% completion.
Tips
Read the entire poem first to understand the context
Look for grammatical clues (verb tense, articles, etc.)
Use the audio player to hear the rhythm and flow
Start with easier word skip settings (like every 8th word) and work your way up
Don't be afraid to use "Show Missing Words" if you get stuck!
Try both Type In and Drag & Drop modes to see which you prefer
Missing Words
"What of the night, colleen, what of the night?" Oh, fires are red and the snows are white: But on one dear hearth that I used know The fire is quenched with the drifted snow.
"What bird is it, colleen, that cries so shrill?" Tis I; and I cry for a voice still — For a kind hand slipped my clinging hold, For my place in a that to-night is cold.
"What of the night, colleen, what of the night?" Oh, never a dares show its light, But wildfire signals to at sea — And Miscann Many's the fire me.
One may sit by the wild-fire, and forget The hands that parted, the lips that met: One may warm one's grief there; for deathly Is the heart that has never a pain hold.
"What pain is it, colleen, you'd win By the fire that's quenched not of wind rain? Why sit you silent the while you spin, As if your sorrow were half a sin?"
What use of wailing? more use to spin, And dearest is sorrow that's half a sin — And the ghostly feet that I hear on the stair, Oh, they must walk soft though my heart bare.
Oh, mother, mother, one thing alone shut my lips that would fain make moan, is that alone in the night I go dree my weird betwixt snow and snow.
Oh, sea-blue eyes of you, yellow head, You passed ere flowers on the thorn were dead: And I God thanks, though the ways be white, That snows fall only on me to-night.
Congratulations! You got all the answers correct!
"What of the night, colleen, what of the night?" Oh, fires are red and the snows are white: But on one dear hearth that I used to know The fire is quenched with the drifted snow.
"What bird is it, colleen, that cries so shrill?" Tis I; and I cry for a kind voice still — For a kind hand slipped from my clinging hold, For my place in a heart that to-night is cold.
"What of the night, colleen, what of the night?" Oh, never a star dares show its light, But wildfire signals to ships at sea — And Miscann Many's the fire for me.
One may sit by the wild-fire, and half forget The hands that parted, the lips that met: One may warm one's grief there; for deathly cold Is the heart that has never a pain to hold.
"What pain is it, colleen, you'd win again By the fire that's quenched not of wind or rain? Why sit you silent the while you spin, As if your sorrow were half a sin?"
What use of wailing? more use to spin, And dearest is sorrow that's half a sin — And the ghostly feet that I hear on the stair, Oh, they must walk soft though my heart go bare.
Oh, mother, mother, one thing alone Keeps shut my lips that would fain make moan, It is that alone in the night I go And dree my weird betwixt snow and snow.
Oh, sea-blue eyes of you, yellow head, You passed ere the flowers on the thorn were dead: And I give God thanks, though the ways be white, That His snows fall only on me to-night.