Please helppp!! Excerpt from My Antonia by Willa Cather
We sat looking off across the country, watching the sun go down. The curly grass about us
was on fire now. The bark of the oaks turned red as copper. There was a shimmer of gold on
the brown river. Out in the stream the sandbars gineredke glass and the light trembled in
the willow thickets as if idle flames were leaping among them. The breeze sak to stress. In
the ravine a ringdove mourned plaintively, and somewhere off in the bushes an owl hosted
The girls sat listless, leaning against each other. The long fingers of the sun touched their
foreheads
Presently we saw a curious thing. There were no clouds, the sun was going down in a limpid
gold-washed sky. Just as the lower edge of the red disc tested on the high fields against the
horizon, a great black figure suddenly appeared on the face of the sun. We sprang to our feet
straining our eyes toward it. In a moment we realized what it was On some up and farma
plough had been left standing in the field. The sun was sinking just behind it. Magnified across
the distance by the horizontal light, it stood out against the sun was exactly contained within
the circle of the disc; the handles, the tongue, the share-black against the molten red. There
it was, heroic in size, a picture writing on the sun
Even while we whispered about it, our vision disappeared the ball dropped and dropped un
the red tip went beneath the earth. The fields below us were dark, the sky was growing pole
and that forgotten plough had sunk back to its own littleness somewhere on the prairie.

The tone of this passage is best described as...

- Apathetic
- whimsical
- contemplative
- desolate