'Tis Spring, My Love, 'Tis Spring
John Clare
1793 to 1864
How to Play Cloze Games
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
’Tis Spring, my love, ’tis Spring,
And the birds to sing:
If ’t was Winter, left alone with you,
Your bonny form and face,
Would make a Summer place,
And be the finest flower that ever grew.
'Tis Spring, my love, ’tis Spring,
And the hazel catkins hing,
the snowdrop has its little blebs of dew;
But that’s not so white within
As your bosom’s hidden skin—
sweetest of all flowers that ever grew.
The sun from bed,
All strewn with roses red,
But the and the loveliest crimson place
Is not so fresh fair,
Or so sweet beyond compare,
As thy blushing, smiling, happy face.
I love Spring’s early flowers,
And bloom in its first hours,
But they never half bright or lovely seem
As the blithe and happy
Of my darling’s blushing face,
And the happiness of young dream.
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