Read the poem and answer the following questions Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blue-black cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.   I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house,   Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?

What is the overall tone of the speaker?

Astonishing  Dry Regretful  Persuasive

Regretful

The poet feels regretful regarding his behavior towards his father.