Drag each excerpt to the correct poetic structure. Identify each excerpt as either a haiku or a tercet. In a solitude of the sea deep from human vanity, And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she (Thomas Hardy, "The Convergence of the Twain") On a withered branch a crow is sitting This autumn eve.(Matshuo Basho, "On a Withered Branch" as translated by William George Aston) Spies, you are lights in state, but of base stuff, Who, when you’ve burnt yourselves down to the snuff, Stink and are thrown away. End fair enough. (Ben Jonson, "On Spies")