ARTICULATION EXERCISES
_The pronunciations and definitions throughout these pages are those
given in “Webster’s New International Dictionary,” published by G. & C.
Merriam Co., Springfield, Mass., 1918 Edition._
Without a graceful and pleasing enunciation, all your elegancy of
style in speaking is not worth a farthing.
—CHESTERFIELD.
In the utterance of words we are concerned with the following terms:
Pronunciation, Enunciation and Articulation. In a general way their
meanings are identical, but yet there is a mark of difference
characterizing each.
_Pronunciation_ has to do with the act of uttering a single letter,
syllable, word, sentence, or whole address. This concerns _correctness_.
_Enunciation_ has to do with careful, distinct utterance so that any word
or any part of a word is completely audible. This concerns _distinctness_.
_Articulation_ has to do with the act of gracefully and skillfully
manipulating those organs of speech necessary for the correct
pronunciation and distinct enunciation of words. This concerns
_skillfulness_.
At least a part of the following exercises should be practiced daily,
preferably in the morning. A few minutes’ practice is a splendid tonic
for the tasks of the day.
I. FOR THE LIPS AND JAW
1. Repeat e a aw ah o oo. In doing this extend the lips and use a relaxed
jaw.
2. Repeat again, giving a rising inflection to each. Then give each sound
the falling inflection, and then the circumflex inflection.
3. Intone them on successive pitches. Be sure you have pure vowel quality.
4. Whisper the sounds e aw permitting the jaw, in the latter sound, to
drop completely relaxed each time.
II. FOR LIPS, TONGUE AND SOFT PALATE
1. Repeat eb ab awb ahb ob oob.
2. Repeat ed ad awd ahd od ood.
3. Repeat eg ag awg ahg og oog.
4. Repeat ek ak awk ahk ok ook.
III. THE ASPIRATES, OR BREATH SOUNDS
1. Repeat the breath sound of p wh f th s t sh h k.
2. Repeat wh (when) whe wha whaw whah who whoo.
3. Repeat fe fa faw fah fo foo.
4. Repeat th (thin) the tha thaw thah tho thoo.
5. Repeat se sa saw sah so soo.
6. Repeat te ta taw tah to too.
7. Repeat she sha shaw shah sho shoo.
8. Repeat he ha haw hah ho hoo.
9. Repeat ke ka kaw kah ko koo.
10. Repeat pe pa paw pah po poo.
IV. THE SUB-VOCAL SOUNDS
1. Repeat the vocal sound of b w th v z d r zh y g.
2. Repeat be ba baw bah bo boo.
3. Repeat w (wise) we wa waw wah wo woo.
4. Repeat ve va vaw vah vo voo.
5. Repeat ze za zaw zah zo zoo.
6. Repeat de da daw dah do doo.
7. Repeat re ra raw rah ro roo.
8. Repeat zhe zha zhaw zhah zho zhoo.
9. Repeat ye ya yaw yah yo yoo.
10. Repeat ge ga gaw gah go goo.
11. Repeat th (thine) the tha thaw thah tho thoo.
V. THE LIQUID SOUNDS
1. Repeat l m n.
2. Repeat le la law lah lo loo.
3. Repeat me ma maw mah mo moo.
4. Repeat ne na naw nah no noo.
VI. THE NASAL SOUNDS
1. Repeat m-m-m-e m-m-m-a m-m-m-aw m-m-m-ah m-m-m-o m-m-m-oo.
2. Repeat n-n-n-e n-n-n-a n-n-n-aw n-n-n-ah n-n-n-o n-n-n-oo.
3. Repeat ng-ng-ng-e ng-ng-ng-a ng-ng-ng-aw ng-ng-ng-ah ng-ng-ng-o
ng-ng-ng-oo.
VII. COMBINATION SOUNDS
1. 2. 3. 4.
_Breath_ _Voice_ _Breath_ _Voice_ _Breath_ _Voice_ _Breath_ _Voice_
fe ve whe we se ze she zhe
fa va wha wa sa za sha zha
faw vaw whaw waw saw zaw shaw zhaw
fah vah whah wah sah zah shah zhah
fo vo who we so zo sho zho
foo voo whoo woo soo zoo shoo zhoo
Here follow a number of difficult combinations especially good for the
pupil who mumbles or is habitually careless and indolent. Their use is
effective in producing flexibility of lips, tongue and palate. It is
not advisable to spend too intensive or too long practice, however,
upon these so-called tongue-twisters lest verbal utterance becomes a
laborious, mechanical process. But there are some who need just such
exercises, and those who desire rapid and distinct articulation cannot
practice them too much, provided their exercise is interesting or amusing.
Betty Botter bought some butter.
“But,” she said, “this butter’s bitter;
If I put it in my batter,
It will make my batter bitter;
But a bit of better butter
Will but make my batter better.”
So she bought a bit o’ butter
Better than the bitter butter,
And made her bitter batter better.
So ’twas better Betty Botter
Bought a bit of better butter.
—_Sheffield Telegraph._
* * * * *
“Thunder,” thought Theresa.
“Thieves!” throbbed Theodore.
Theresa thumped, threatened, thwarted those three thieves, throwing the
thick thesaurus—that thrilled them! Theodore thanked Theresa.
* * * * *
I like to write about Marie,
For _glee_ and _she_ and _be_ and _see_
And _we_ and _plea_ and _free_ and _me_
All go nicely with Marie.
—_Chicago Herald._
* * * * *
How much wood would a wood chuck chuck
If a wood chuck could and would chuck wood?
He’d chuck as much wood as a wood chuck would
If a wood chuck could and would chuck wood.
* * * * *
A thatcher of Thatchwood went to Thatchet a-thatching.
Five flippy Frenchmen foolishly fanning fainting flies.
Eight eager, earnest, eccentric Englishmen eating eleven elusive eagles.
High up the hill he heaved a huge hoe.
A cheap, changeable, child-like chimpanzee champion playing checkers with
Charles.
Black bugs’ blood. (Repeat quickly.)
* * * * *
When a twiner a-twisting will twist him a twist,
For the twining his twist he three twines doth entwist.
But if one of the twines of the twist doth untwist
The twine that untwisted, untwisteth the twist.
* * * * *
As much of the dew that the dew drops drop, if dew drops do drop dew.
* * * * *
A tutor, who tooted a flute, tried to tutor two tooters to toot. Said the
two to the tutor: “Is it harder to toot, or tutor two tooters to toot?”
* * * * *
A shy little she said shoo
To a fly and a flea in a flue.
Said the flea, “Let us fly.”
Said the fly, “Let us flee.”
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
* * * * *
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts,
With barest wrists and stoutest boasts,
He thrusts his fists against the posts,
And still insists he sees the ghosts.
* * * * *
Bring a bit of buttered bran bread.
Lucy likes light literature.
Around the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran.
A lovely lily lying all alone along the lane.
Can a stammerer flatter a flatterer?
The bald lawyer saw all in the hall.
Ask at last the flask for the task.
* * * * *
To the Windmills said the Millwheel:
“As the wind wills do you still wheel?”
“Yes, we still wheel when the wind wills!”
To the Millwheel said the Windmills.
* * * * *
She stood at the door of Mrs. Smith’s fish-sauce shop in the Strand
welcoming him in.
Sisyphus sold six pairs of shining steel, slippery scissors.
What noise annoys a noisy oyster most? A noisy noise annoys noisy oyster
most.
A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. (Not _whole hump_.)
A sad dangler. (Not _angler_.)
A languid dame. (Not _aim_.)
His crime moved me. (Not _cry_.)
He will prate to anybody. (Not _pray_.)
Chaste stars. (Not _tars_.)
Irish yews. (Not _shoes_.)
“Give the cat stale bread!” “The cat’s tail, mamma?”
“Silence, child!”
Fill the sieve with thistles, then sift the thistles in the sieve.
A glowing gleam glowing green.
The bleak breeze blighted the bright broom blossoms.
Flesh of freshly dried flying fish.
Six thick thistle sticks.
Two toads tried to trot to Tedbury.
Give Grimes Jim’s great gilt gig whip.
Strong Stephen Stringer snared slickly six sickly silky snakes.
Much water makes the meal-mill wheel work well.
Eye her highness, how high she holds her old haughty head.
The soup must be heated before he eat it.
* * * * *
Hugh Go goes for the girls that he sees;
Pa Go goes ’cause it limbers his knees;
Ma Go goes for the ease ’neath the trees;
Nanny Go goes for the coasters that please;
Letta Go goes for Galligher’s squeeze.
So, go where the Goes go.
* * * * *
Max with a wax match.
The sea ceaseth—it sufficeth sufficiently that the sea ceaseth.
Six slick slim slippery slimy sleek slender sickly saplings.
* * * * *
Owen Moore went away
Owing more than he could pay;
Owen Moore came back one day
Owing more.
* * * * *
There was a young fellow named Tait
Who dined with his girl at 8:08.
As Tate did not state,
I cannot relate
What Tate and his _tête-à-tête_ ate at 8:08.
* * * * *
A farmer had a seeder for the seeding of the seed. It was a cedar seeder,
and said he: “I never seed a seeder that could exceed this yere cedar
seeder for the seedin’ of the seed.”
* * * * *
SIMON SHORT’S SON SAMUEL
Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. Seventeen summers’ speeding storms,
spreading sunshine, successively saw Simon’s small shabby shop still
stanch; saw Samuel’s self-same squeaking sign still swinging, silently
speechifying: “Simon Short, Smithfield’s sole surviving shoemaker, shoes
sewed, soled superfinely.”
Simon’s spry, sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sewed shirts, stitched
sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon’s six stout, sturdy sons, Seth, Samuel,
Stephen, Saul, Shadrach, Silas—sold sundries. Sober Seth sold sugar,
starch, spice; Simple Samuel sold saddles, stirrups, screws; sagacious
Stephen sold silks, satins, shawls; skeptical Saul sold silver salvers;
selfish Shadrach sold salves, shoestrings, soap, skates, saws, sausages,
sawdust; slack Silas sold Sally Short’s stuffed sofas.
Some seven summers since, Simon’s second son, Samuel, saw Sophia
Sophronia Spriggs, sweet, sensible, smart Sophronia Spriggs. Sam showed
strange symptoms. Sam seldom stayed storing, selling saddles. Sam sighed
sorrowfully, sought Sophia Sophronia Spriggs’ society; sung several
serenades slyly. Simon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam seemed so
silly singing such shameful, senseless songs. “Strange, Sam should slight
such splendid summer sales! Strutting Spendthrift! Shatter-brained
simpleton!”
“Softly, softly, sire!” said Sally. “Sam’s smitten; Sam’s spied some
sweetheart.”
“Sentimental schoolboy!” snarled Simon. “Smitten! stop such stuff!” Simon
sent Sally’s snuffbox spinning, seized Sally’s scissors, smashed Sally’s
spectacles, scattered several spools. “Sneaking scoundrel! Sam’s shocking
silliness shall surcease!” Scowling Simon stopped speaking, starting
swiftly shopward. Sally sighed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet
sympathy.
“Sam,” said she, “Sire seems singularly snappy; so, sonny, stop strutting
streets, stop smoking segars, spending specie superfluously, stop
sprucing so, stop singing serenades, stop short! Sell saddles sensibly.
See Sophia Sophronia Spriggs soon; she’s sprightly; she’s stable. So,
solicit, sue, secure Sophia speedily, Sam.”
“So soon? So soon?” said Sam, standing stock-still.
“So soon, surely,” said Sally, smiling, “’specially since Sire shows such
spirits.”
So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously.
Sam soliloquizes: “Sophia Sophronia Spriggs—Spriggs—Samuel Short’s
spouse—sounds splendid. Suppose she should say—shoo? She shan’t! She
shan’t!”
Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seeing Sam, she
stopped starching, saluted Sam smilingly. Sam stammered shockingly:
“Spl-spl-splendid summer season, Sophia.”
“Somewhat sultry,” suggested Sophia.
“Sar-sartin, Sophia,” said Sam! (Silence seventeen seconds.)
“Selling saddles, still, Sam?”
“Sartin,” said Sam, starting suddenly. “Season’s somewhat sudorific,”
said Sam, stealthily staunching sweat, shaking sensibly.
“Sartin,” said Sophia, significantly. “Sip some sherbert, Sam?” (Silence
sixty seconds.)
“Sire shot sixty sheldrakes, Saturday,” said Sophia.
“Sixty? sho!” said Sam. (Silence seventy seconds.)
“See Sister Susan’s sunflowers,” said Sophia, sociably scattering such
stiff silence.
Sophia’s sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely; so Sam suddenly
spoke sentimentally, “Sophia, Susan’s sunflowers seem saying, ‘Samuel
Short, Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, sequestered spot, some
sylvan shade. Sparkling springs shall sing soul-soothing strains; sweet
songsters shall silence secret sighings; super-angelic sylphs shall—’”
Sophia snickered, so Sam stopped.
“Sophia,” said Sam solemnly.
“Sam,” said Sophia.
“Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short’s sincere. Sam’s seeking some spouse,
Sophia!”
Sophia stood silent.
“Speak! Sophia, speak! Such suspense stimulates sorrow.”
“Seek Sire, Sam, seek Sire!”
Sam sought Sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, “Sartin.”
So Sophia Sophronia Spriggs serenely signs Sam’s screeds “Sophia
Sophronia Spriggs Short.”
* * * * *
Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve
full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the
thick of his thumb. Now if Theophilus Thistle, the _successful_ thistle
sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles thrust three
thousand thistles through the thick of _his_ thumb, see that _thou_, in
sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand
thistles through the thick of _thy_ thumb.
* * * * *
There was a man named Bill. The said Bill owned a bill-board and he also
owed a board-bill. Bill’s board-bill fell due, but owing to the fact
that Bill’s bill-board held all his money, the said Bill was unable to
settle the board-bill. Bill’s landlady was much bored with Bill, with
Bill’s board-bill and with Bill’s bill-board. Bill also became bored
with himself, bored with his landlady, bored with his board-bill, and
bored with his bill-board. So Bill, bored and bored and bored by her
who was also bored and bored and bored, sold his bill-board and paid
his board-bill; and thus Bill who was often bored and the board that
was often billed and the bill that often bored—Bill, bill-board and
board-bill, together with the thrice-bored board-bill lady served to make
history, the reading of which continues to bore all owners of bill-boards
and owners of board-bills to this day.
* * * * *
Though doubtless written with some immediate political purpose, with
which we have no concern, the student of a perfect enunciation will find
the following a most helpful exercise.
AIN’T IT THE TRUTH?
BY THREL FALL
Woodrow Wilson works wonders while
Windy worldlings weary welkins with
What were whilom winful warcries.
While wayward Washingtonians without
Wit whimper wearisomely, while witless
Wretches whine weasel words with will,
While woebegone weaklings wobble,
Waver, wizen; while weasened warlocks
Who want weapons wickedly weave webs,
Woodrow who would wither weltering
World war works wholesouledly. Woodrow
Warps world-peace woof with western
Wisdom, whipsaws wayfaring wastrels
Who would wantonly wreck. Woodrow
Whangs werewolves, watches whisperers,
Whales welchers. Woodrow warily
Wheedles world-hardened wiseacres
Who wrangle. Woodrow without
Weakening whacks wooden-headed
Whippersnappers who warble. Woodrow’s
Welcome World Weal wins war-weary
Womankind, wan widows whose warriors
Were wasted, wink warmly, winsome
Wenches whoop wildly, waltzing
Walkyrie-like, worthy wives warble
Whimsically. Woodrow withal wakes
World wants which were withered.
Whangdoodles with warlike ways
Would well ’ware Wilson.
—_Los Angeles Times_, March 20, 1919.
* * * * *
FAR-FAMED FAIRY TALE OF FENELLA[1]
(1) A Famous Fish Factor Found himself Father of Five Fine Flirting
Females—Fanny, Florence, Fernanda, Francesca, and Fenella. (2) The
First Four were Flat-Featured, ill-Favored, Forbidding-Faced, Freckled
Frumps; Fretful, Flippant, Foolish, and Flaunting. (3) Fenella was
a Fine-Featured, Fresh, Fleet-Footed Fairy; Frank, Free and Full of
Fun. (4) The Fisher Failed and was Forced by Fickle Fortune to Forego
his Footman, Forfeit his Forefather’s Fine Fields, and Find a Forlorn
Farmhouse in a Forsaken Forest. (5) The Four Fretful Females, Fond of
Figuring at Feasts in Feathers and Fashionable Finery, Fumed at their
Fugitive Father. (6) Forsaken by Fulsome, Flattering Fortune-hunters,
who Followed them when Fish Flourished, Fenella Fondled her Father,
Flavored their Food, Forgot her Flattering Followers, and Frolicked in
Frieze without Flounces. (7) The Father, Finding himself Forced to
Forage in Foreign parts for a Fortune, Found he could afford a Fairing
For his Five Fondlings. (8) The First Four were Fain to Foster their
Frivolity with Fine Frills and Fans, Fit to Finish their Father’s
Finances; Fenella, Fearful of Flooring him, Formed a Fancy For a Full,
Fresh Flower. (9) Fate Favored the Fish-Factor For a Few days, when he
Fell in with a Fog; his Faithful _Filly’s_ Footsteps Faltered, and Food
Failed. (10) He Found himself in Front of a Fortified Fortress. Finding
it Forsaken, and Feeling himself Feeble and Forlorn with Fasting, he Fed
upon the Fish, Flesh and Fowl he Found, Fricasseed and Fried; and when
Full, Fell Flat on the Floor. (11) Fresh in the Forenoon he Forthwith
Flew to the Fruitful Fields, and, not Forgetting Fenella, he Filched
a Fair Flower; when a Foul, Frightful, Fiendish Figure Flashed Forth,
“Felonious Fellow!—Fingering my Flower—I’ll Finish you! Go, say Farewell
to your Fine, Felicitous Family, and Face me in a Fortnight.” (12)
The Faint-hearted Fisher Fumed and Faltered, and Fast was Far in his
Flight. (13) His Five daughters Flew to Fall at his Feet, and Fervently
Felicitate him. (14) Frantically and Fluently he unfolded his Fate. (15)
Fenella, Forthwith, Fortified by Filial Fondness, Followed her Father’s
Footsteps, and Flung her Faultless Form at the Foot of the Frightful
Figure, who Forgave the Father, and Fell Flat on his Face; For he had
Fervently Fallen in a Fiery Fit of love For the Fair Fenella. (16) He
Feasted and Fostered her, till, Fascinated by his Faithfulness, she
Forgot the Ferocity of his Face, Form and Feature; and Frankly and Fondly
Fixed Friday Fifth of February, For the affair to come off. (17) There
were present at the wedding, Fanny, Florence, Fernanda, Francesca, and
the Fisher. (18) There were Festivity, Fragrance, Finery, Fireworks,
Fricasseed Frogs, Fritters, Fish, Flesh, Fowl and Furmenty; Frontignac,
Flip, and Fare Fit For the Fastidious; Fruit, Fuss, Flambeaux, Four
Fat Fiddlers, and Fifers; and the Frightful Form of the Fortunate
and Frumpish Fiend Fell From him, and he Fell at Fenella’s Feet, a
Fair-Favored, Fine, Frank Freeman of the Forest! (19) Behold the Fruits
of Filial affection!—_Comic Times._
MY M-MADE MEMORY MEDLEY
MENTIONING MEMORY’S MARVELOUS MANIFESTATIONS[2]
(1) Memory Means Mind—Mind Means Memory. (2) Memory Most Mysteriously
Makes Mental Memoranda. (3) Matured Metaphysical Meditation Manifests
Memory Man’s Mighty Maker’s Manifoldly Marvelous, Magnificent
Masterpiece. (4) Memory Makes, Molds, Modifies, Moves, Maintains Mind;
Memory Moves Man’s Mouth; Memory Manages Man’s Manipulations. (5)
Multitudinous Misfortunes Mark Meager Memory, Municipal Mismanagement,
Maritime Mishaps, Mercantile Miscalculations. (6) Meager Memory Means
Mystification, Misconception, Misunderstanding, Mournful Mental Malady.
(7) Many Men Meditating Merge ’Mid Mystification, Mostly Meaning
Mismanaged Memory. (8) Meager Memory Makes Many Men Mere Mute Mummies.
(9) Mold Memory, Manage Memory; Make Memory-Meditations Mind-Making
Material. Mere Mechanical, Muttering Memory Makes Many Men Mere
Meaning-Minus Magpies. (10) Memory Managed Methodically, Manifests
Marvelous Might. (11) Many Maddened Masters Murmuringly Mistrust
Meritedly Mistrusted Menials’ Muddly Memories. (12) Menials’ Message
Mangling Misconduct, Magical Modern Memory Methods Most Materially
Mitigate. (13) Memory Methods Master Most Marvelous Medleys. (14) Miss
Market-Much Might Memorize Meat, Mustard, Mushrooms, Melons, Marmalade,
Milk, Mullets, Mops, Matches, Medicine, Myrrh, Musk, Muslin, Music;
Moreover Many Miscellaneous Momentous Messages. (15) Many Men Much
Misunderstand Memory Methods, Making Mental Mazes Much More Mysterious;
Making Mere Mole-Mounds Mule Maddening-Mountains; Making Minutest Mites
Mighty Mammalia. (16) Many Men Mentally Merely Move Mobward, Mingling
Mimicked, Meaningless Murmurings ’Midst Misty-Minded Men’s Maniacal
Mutterings, Menacing Memory Method’s Mutilation. Mildly, Manfully,
Mockingly, Memory Men March, Maintaining Majesty. (17) Mercenary
Motives, Mistaken Monetary Management May Make Many Meanly Miss Mentally
Masticating Memory Methods. Moral Men Manifesting Manly Motives May
Mention Memory’s Marvelous Malleability, Making Memory’s Maximum Man’s
Mental Meridian! (18) Murky-Minded, Misanthropic, Monopolizing Men
May Malevolently Mutter Many Mischievous, Malice-Molded Maledictions,
Mockingly Mistrusting Memory Methods. (19) Memory Methods Master Minutely
Many Manuals, Mosaic Maxims, Mediæval Memorables, Masonic Mysteries,
Mechanical Movements, Mineral Mixtures, Medicinal Metamorphoses, Musical
Measures, Mathematical Materials, Mercantile Managements, Momentary
Mementos. (20) Memory Methods Might Make Monarchs, Ministers, Members,
Mayors, Magistrates, Mouth Most Mightily, Minus Manuscripts. (21)
Memory Methodically Manifested Makes Man Muscularly, Mentally, Morally,
Mercantilely, Much More Manly. (22) Memory May Make Metropolitan
Manufacturers Manufacture Many Most Magnificent Materials, Merely
Marking Mentally Modistes’ Modified Matchless Models. (23) Memory Makes
Money-Moving Merchants Mass Many More Money-Mounds. (24) Memory Makes
Morose Men Much More Mannerly. Memory Makes Men’s Motto “Mutely Miss
Mischievous Meddling.” (25) Memory, Marking Man’s Misguided Mind, Makes
Man Merciful. Mingled Mortifications, Minus Merciful Memory, Make Minor
Mistakes Miscreant Misdemeanors. (26) Memory, Methodized, Makes More
Magnetic, Meltingly Melodious, Meekminded, Modest, Marriageable Maidens.
(27) Memory Makes Mothers Manage Minutest, Multitudinously Miscellaneous
Matters Meritoriously Maternally. (28) Memory Makes Model Men Matchlessly
Master Mimicry. Memory Makes Mimics Mimic Minutely. (29) Mind—Memory!
Mockingly, Maddeningly, Manages, Masters, Manacles Men’s Mere Muscular
Might. (30) Memory Molds Men’s Musings; Millionaires’ Musings May Mark
Moldering Marble Monuments, Mutely Mentioning Magnificent Munificences.
(31) Military Men, Musing, May Mark Muskets, Matchless Marksmen, Mortars,
Majors, Men, Movements, Maneuvers. (32) Milkmaid’s Musings May Mark
Mist-Moistened Meadows, Mirthful Milkmen Merrily Milking, Millers, Mills,
Men Mowing, Moving Mud-Mounds, Minding Mares, Managing Managers, Malting;
Master’s Mansion, Master Making Market Memos.; Mistress Making Mincemeat;
Miss Millie “_Musicking_”; Master Mathew Meeting Miss May Marry-Me. (33)
Man’s Misconduct Makes Meditation—_Memory_—Mental Misery. (34) Murderers’
Morbid Minds Meek Morpheus Molests, Making Midnight’s Mysterious
Musings Merciless Mental Martyrdoms. (35) Methodical Memorizing Means
Mating Mentally—_Mark!_ Minister Manuscript—Manuscript Mission—Mission
Money—Money Missionary—Missionary Mohammedan—Mohammedan Meditate—Meditate
Misconduct—Misconduct Mediator—Mediator Messiah! Mark, Moreover, Memory
Methods Make Mixed Mental Masses Most Marvelously Manageable. Meager
Memory, Moderate Memory, Mighty Memory, Method May Magnify Much. (36)
Mentioning My M-Made Memory Medley, May Make Many Melancholy Moping Men
Manifest Much Merriment. (37) Many Merely Muttering My M-Made Memory
Medley May Make Multitudinous Mistakes. (38) My Memory Men May Memorize
My Matchlessly Mouth Martyrdomizing M-Made Memory Medley!!!
—WILLIAM STOKES.
* * * * *
If one has a little spare time, he can use it to good advantage in making
alliterative exercises for himself. It will enlarge his vocabulary,
discipline him in the use of unfamiliar words, and, at the same time,
afford him opportunity for linguistic practice for the improvement of his
pronunciation, enunciation and articulation. For instance, here are a few
crude attempts made by one of the authors when he was lying on a sick-bed
and desired a change of mental occupation.
MIGHTY MAJESTIC MIND
MAN’S MUSCULAR, MENTAL, MORAL MASTER
Mind magnificently masters man. Mind majestically manages man’s muscular,
mental, moral movements. Man moves materially. Material movements mean
motions made muscularly, mechanically. Man’s mechanics move as man’s mind
mandates. Mere mechanical-man, muscular-man, means microcosmic majesty,
but man’s moral mentality, mysteriously manifests man’s Mighty Maker’s
magnificent, matchless majesty. Mind manifestations mean mentation,
mystery, method, municipal management, music, melody, multifarious
manufactures, market manipulations, Marconi messages, macadamization,
motor movements, mechanical mastery, metallic mixtures, muscular motions
mentally mandated, maritime maneuvers, magnetic mastery. Men’s mental
missteps mean misery, morbidity, moroseness, many moon’s mournful
meditations. Man’s mind mismanaged means mental mirages, miserable
miserliness, mean marriages. Many men marry mistakenly, merely marking
mean mentality, moral mismanagement. Miserable marriages mean morbid
mouthings, misleading marital mirages, moral missteps, monotonous
months, mean moments, miserable meetings. Mean, malicious, morally
morbid, meddling marplots make many marriage mates miserable, mouthing
mendacious misstatements, manufacturing mean messages, making matrons
mutely meditate mauling mysterious maidens who merrily manipulate
meager-minded men. Methodistical, Mennonite maidens, meditating many
men’s malodorous matrimonial mishaps, mercilessly meditate maidenhood,
mocking marriage misfits. Maidens morally, mentally, muscularly married,
majestically move matronward, meeting motherhood merrily. Mighty
Majestic Mind made Maiden Mary’s motherhood mysteriously materialize.
Moral man’s meditations magnify Maiden Mary’s marvelous motherhood.
Mans’, matrons’, maidens’ managed mentations mean mentally-manipulated
meritorious monogamous marriages, making mates materially merry, managing
maternity modernly. Moreover, man’s managed mentations mean mercantile
might, maritime majesty, masterly mechanics, monkish manuscripts, marble
mansions, moon maps, martial maneuvers, military marchings, magnificent
masquerades, mail movements, mystic materializations, mathematical mazes,
Maypole maidens, molded medals, modern medicine, megalithic monuments,
musical megaphones, melodramatic monologues, man’s melioration, mellow
memories, Mennonite missionaries, merciful mandatories, Messianic masses,
metaphysical messages, mighty metaphors, metaphrastic metamorphoses,
metallic mercuries, marvelous metropolises, Methodistic morals, monks’
meditations, Mohammedan mosques, miniature minarets, masterful ministers,
miraculous mirrors, martial mobilizations, multiplied musicians, marble
mosaics, meaningful mottoes. Mendelssohn made manifold music, monkish
masses, modulated madrigals, mincing minuets, military marches. Moor
mountebanks make money monkey-shining. Melancthon’s managed mentality
materialized moral mottoes, manuscripts, mandates, mental manna
for mighty monarchs, manifold multitudes. Macbeth’s moral missteps
materialized manichean morbidity, malignant moroseness, murderous
manifestations, maniacal madness. Merry Maryland’s melody moves men’s,
matrons’, maidens’ muscular movements mightily. More meditation might
materialize many more m-made mental meanderings.
SOUL SUBLIME
Spirit sees spirit surely. Spirit shuns sensuous symbols, shibboleths,
signs, sins. Spirit seeks serenity, sociability, salvation, supreme
spiritual standards, splendid sympathy, starlike success. Sin,
sensuality, sear, singe, scorch, send suffering, sorrow, sadness.
Spirit, soul, soaring supremely, senses slumber soundly. Senses sleep,
spirit solves. Soul subjects senses securely—sight, sound, smell,
space—storing spirit secrets, sweet sounds, soulful sympathy. Spirit
sends soul starward seeking spirit’s shoreless, shining seas sublimely
serene. Soul survives sense’s subjugation. Soul seeks successful
solutions such staggerers as syncopation, syncretism, syndicalism,
symbiosis, symmetricalism, synesthesia, synovitis, syringomyelia,
strumæ, stronglyidæ, strobilation, stock swindling, solfatara, solaria,
Sivaism, Shintoism, sisymbriums, siphonophora, shunning shilly-shallying,
sloppy sentimentality, slippery sneakiness, sulky slovenliness, secret
sinfulness, shekel stealing, saucy slandering.
* * * * *
One might write a “Wordy Wabble on Women,” telling how “women wheedle
wary woodmen woefully in western, wild Wyoming and Washington. Warring,
waspish women wear war-paint wielding willow wands whackingly when
weary Willies wantonly waste wages,” and so on. Or he could picture
Dauntless Daniel daringly defying Desperate Desmond. A war correspondent
might have gained fame a few years ago had he headed his German letter:
“Blatant Billy Blusteringly, Belligerently, Bellows Braggingly,” and
later he might have told how “British bulldogs beat Billy’s bragging,
brutal, bullying battalions; beneficently, benignly, beautifully backing
beleaguered Belgium’s bruised, but brave batteries. Billy bemoaned beaten
battalions, but Bulldog Britain beamed benignly, bantering Billy’s
Brunswick backers, bagging Billy’s belongings, bogging Billy’s boasted
bootsteps. Britain’s bulldogs made bragging, boasting Billy bow bendingly
before bully belligerents.”
Let not the intellectual student deem this kind of exercise too
frivolous. It will be of far greater benefit to him than he is aware,
especially if he will read and reread his alliterations, with clear
understanding, in accordance with the principles laid down in the earlier
part of Chapter I.
Of a different type, but equally useful as exercises in composition, and
intelligent and carefully articulated reading, are such compositions
as the following. Let the student try to make up something of the kind
descriptive of a battle, a rainstorm, an earthquake, etc.
* * * * *
A man whose vocabulary seems to be unlimited when he desires to describe
conditions, and whose nights were made sleepless by a switch engine,
recently wrote as follows to the railroad company:
Is it absolutely necessary, in discharge of his duty day and
night, that the engineer of your yard at the upper terminal
bridge should make his engine ding and dong and fizz and spit and
clang and bang and buzz and hiss and bell and wail and pant and
rant and yowl and grate and grind and puff and bump and click and
clank and chug and moan and hoot and toot and crash and grunt and
gasp and groan and whistle and wheeze and squawk and blow and
jar and perk and rasp and jingle and twang and clack and rumble
and jangle and ring and clatter and yelp and croak and howl and
hum and snarl and puff and growl and thump and boom and clash
and jolt and jostle and shake and screech and snort and snarl
and slam and shake and throb and crink and quiver and rumble and
roar and rattle and yell and smoke and smell and shriek like
hell?—_Labor Clarion_, 1916.
THE HABIT OF SWALLOWING THE “G”
_The Problem_
It is strange why so many people fail to sound the “ing” ending clearly
when in reality to do so requires less effort than not to. There is no
better way of describing it than the swallowing of the “g.”
Let us take the word “running” and determine the action of the tongue in
the proper and improper enunciation of the “ing.”
1. Repeat it as “runnin’” and note the position of the tongue tip at the
end of the word. You will find it pressed against the roof of the mouth
just back of the upper front teeth. You will also note that the vowel
sound “i” is changed to “u.”
2. Now repeat “running.” You will discover the mouth is more open, and
the tongue tip just back of the _lower_ front teeth, and the pure vowel
quality of “i” is retained.
_Evil Effects_
There are three serious effects upon the person who persists in
swallowing his “g’s”:
1. It causes a restricted throat, and consequently a tired one.
2. It causes a stoppage of pure tone, and consequently develops nasality.
3. It shows a lack of care and culture.
_Practice Exercises_
Repeat the following exercises with distinctness and precision:
1. Beng, bang, bawng, bahng, bong, boong.
2. Deng, dang, dawng, dahng, dong, doong.
3. Feng, fang, fawng, fahng, fong, foong.
4. Geng, gang, gawng, gahng, gong, goong, (Hard “g” sound.)
5. Heng, hang, hawng, hahng, hong, hoong.
6. Jeng, jang, jawng, jahng, jong, joong.
7. Keng, kang, kawng, kahng, kong, koong.
8. Leng, lang, lawng, lahng, long, loong.
9. Meng, mang, mawng, mahng, mong, moong.
10. Peng, pang, pawng, pahng, pong, poong.
11. Qeng, qang, qawng, qahng, qong, qoong.
12. Reng, rang, rawng, rahng, rong, roong.
13. Seng, sang, sawng, sahng, song, soong.
14. Teng, tang, tawng, tahng, tong, toong.
15. Veng, vang, vawng, vahng, vong, voong.
16. Weng, wang, wawng, wahng, wong, woong.
17. Yeng, yang, yawng, yahng, yong, yoong.
HOW THE WATER COMES DOWN AT LODORE
BY ROBERT SOUTHEY
Receding and speeding, and shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting, and threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing, and dripping and skipping,
And brightening and whitening, and quivering and shivering,
And hitting and splitting, and shining and twining,
And rattling and battling, and shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring, and waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing, and flowing and growing,
And running and stunning, and hurrying and scurrying,
And glittering and flittering, and gathering and feathering,
And dinning and spinning, and foaming and roaming,
And dropping and hopping, and working and jerking,
And gurgling and struggling, and heaving and cleaving,
And thundering and floundering:
And falling and crawling, and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
Retreating and meeting and beating and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling,
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing,
And so never ending but always descending,
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending;
All at once, and all o’er, with a mighty uproar,
And in this way the water comes down at Lodore.
—_Abridged._
OVERCOMING THE RISING INFLECTION
One of the most effective elements of convincing speech is the
_inflection_.
By _inflection_ is meant the glide of the voice to a higher or lower
pitch. This glide may be quick and short, or long and slow. It may be a
rising or falling glide, or both.
Complaints are constantly being made against the improper use of the
“rising inflection.” This misuse of one of the most invaluable agencies
for forceful utterance is persistently indulged in by the majority of
students. It is a common fault.
Its disastrous effect does not lie merely in ineffectiveness of speech,
yet that in itself ought to be sufficient cause for its cure, but rather
in its destructibility of the pupil’s will-power and self-confidence. The
pupil who has persisted in answering with a question mark in his voice is
indelibly marked. He is likely to be dependent instead of independent and
dependable; he is groping in the dark for a crutch in order to keep his
mental balance.
The most flagrant causes for such improper and inexcusable speech may be
enumerated under two heads:
_On the Part of the Pupil_
The pupil is not sure of the answer.
The pupil wishes to please the teacher.
The pupil is not sure he has answered enough.
The pupil fears he will make a mistake.
The pupil waits for the teacher to verify his answer.
The pupil is not sure of what he intends to say.
The pupil does not believe what he says. He is in doubt.
The pupil does not concentrate.
The pupil is careless and lazy.
_On the Part of the Teacher_
The teacher throws out suggestive hints of the answer and the pupil
answers in guesses.
The teacher’s question has not been clearly put.
The teacher has not definitely planned the lesson and consequently uses
the rising inflection too often.
The teacher does not demand definite and clear thought from pupils.
The teacher accepts slovenly work.
The teacher grows calloused to the sound of the inflection because of its
never ceasing recurrence.
Is it not a lamentable fact that our schools have not given the proper
attention to eradicating this common and inexcusable fault? Even in
business and society the cultured ear is continually annoyed by the
common use of this abomination.
It is almost unbelievable that, out of twenty-five teachers recently
examined, but two were able to distinguish the good and bad qualities of
their own voices. Few teachers have ever given serious thought to their
own voices as invaluable instruments in the carrying out of their duties.
At one time one of the authors made a careful study of the effect of the
teacher’s voice upon pupils. He visited the same grade at the same hour
on the same day in two different weeks and in two different school-rooms.
This is what he found.
In the first room the children were extremely nervous, restless, unhappy
and irritable. In the other room they were quiet, restful, obedient
and happy. In the first room the teacher used a hard metallic tone,
and usually spoke in quick, short “jabs” of speech. There was little
modulation of voice and she seemed to be talking continuously, for when
she was silent her harsh tones seemed to continue reverberating in his
ears.
In the second room the teacher had splendid poise and a pleasing,
well-modulated and natural tone. Her voice as well as her general manner
had a soothing effect upon the children, for, at the end of the day,
they, as well as herself, were not tired.
How often we hear people around us say of a public speaker: Why doesn’t
he speak so that people can hear him? or more clearly and distinctly? etc.
During the training of would-be officers for our speedily required army
quite a number were passed as incompetent because their voices were
inadequate to give command. Only recently one of the authors was present
at a high school military drill. The boy in command had a high, piping
voice, of which he had little control, and he was openly laughed at
by his fellows to his intense mortification and disgust. A good voice,
properly trained and obedient to the will of the personality behind it is
an invaluable asset in life to every one.
If one does not possess it, he must gain it, and to accomplish this
theory is of little or no avail. The student must practice diligently
and persistently. The following exercises are carefully selected for the
purpose of giving power and voice control.
_Exercises in Inflectional Agility_
The Rising, Quick, Short Glide
Note: The italicized words are to be given quick, short, rising
inflection.
_Attention._
Get on your mark! get set! _go!_
Company, _halt_!
Get ready, aim, _fire_!
Hands _up_!
_Halt!_ who goes there?
Strike _one_, strike _two_; _out_!
All _aboard_!
Good _night_!
Sail _on_! Sail _on_! and _on_!
O _James_! come _here_! come _here_!
_Charge_, Chester, _charge_!
_On_, Stanley, _on_!
Hats _off_! hats _off_! I say.
Now’s _the day_ and now’s _the hour_!
* * * * *
“Yo, _ho_, lads! yo _ho_, yo _ho_!
Joy, joy _to all_, for we must _go_,
Yo _ho_, lads! yo _ho_, yo _ho_!”
* * * * *
“I love, _ah!_ how I love to ride
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide.”
* * * * *
“To _arms_! they _come_! the _Greek_! the _Greek_!”
“Remember _March_, the ides of March _remember_.”
“_Give_ us, O _give_ us, the man who _sings_ at his work!”
* * * * *
The Counting Exercise
_1_, 2, _3_, 4, _5_, 6, _7_, 8, _9_, 10.
1, _2_, 3, _4_, 5, _6_, 7, _8_, 9, _10_.
1, 2, _3_, 4, 5, _6_, 7, 8, _9_, 10.
(This exercise can be carried on indefinitely.)
Indicate the Inflected Words in the Following Excerpts
We, the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect
Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the
common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the Blessings
of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this
Constitution of the United States of America.
* * * * *
Reading maketh a full man; conference, a ready man; and writing an exact
man.
—FRANCIS BACON: “Of Studies.”
* * * * *
He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast.
—S. T. COLERIDGE: “Ancient Mariner.”
* * * * *
So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, “Thou must,”
The youth replies, “I can.”
—RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
The Falling, Quick, Short Glide
Note: Italicized words are given quick and short falling inflections.
Hold that _line_, hold that _line_, hold that _line hard_.
Good _night_ (a provincialism, meaning disgust or hopelessness).
“Hence! _home_, you idle creature; get you _home_!”
“I am a _Jew_.”
“Laughed at my _losses_, mocked at my _gains_, scorned my _nation_,
thwarted my _bargains_, cooled my _friends_, heated mine _enemies_.”
Indicate the Inflected Words in the Following Excerpts
Quoth the raven, “Never more.”
O death, where is thy sting!
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea.
Leave me to my fate.
My heart is awed within me.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!
Full fathom five thy father lies.
* * * * *
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
—TENNYSON.
* * * * *
“The noise that twenty or thirty lions can make, deliberately bent on
making it and roaring all at once, is unbelievable. They throw their
heads up and glory in strength of lungs until thunder takes second place,
and the listener knows why not the bravest, not the most dangerous
of beasts has managed to impose the fable of his grandeur on men’s
imagination.”
—TALBOT MUNDY, in “The Ivory Trail.”
* * * * *
We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa!
Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin’ over Africa—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an’-twenty mile to-day—
Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Don’t—don’t—don’t—don’t—look at what’s in front of you
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again!)
Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin’ ’em,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
—KIPLING.
The Rising Long and Slow Glide
Note: The italicized words are given a long, slow, upward glide.
“_Now, then_,” cried Squeers, from the bottom of the stairway, “are you
going to sleep _all day, up there_?”
* * * * *
_Breathes there a man_, with soul so dead,
Who never to _himself hath said_,
“_This is my own_, my native land!”
Whose heart hath ne’er _within him burned_,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering _on a foreign strand_?
_If such there breathe_, go, mark him well.
—SCOTT.
* * * * *
_Higher still and higher_
From the earth thou springest
Like a _cloud of fire_;
The blue deep thou wingest
And singing still _dost soar, and soaring_ ever singest.
—SHELLEY.
* * * * *
_Sweet_ are the uses of _adversity_,
Which, _like the toad_, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a _precious jewel_ in his head;
And this our life, _exempt from public haunt_,
Finds _tongues_ in trees, _books_ in the running brooks,
_Sermons_ in stones, and _good_ in every thing.
—SHAKESPEARE.
Indicate the Inflected Words in the Following Excerpts
There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest
scholar of the age.
They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth.
He has this day surprised the thousands who hung with rapture on his
accents, by such an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacity,
such a display of powers, as are unparalleled in the annals of oratory;
a display that reflects the highest honor on himself—luster upon
letters—renown upon parliament—glory upon the country.
—BURKE, on “Sheridan.”
* * * * *
Better to smell the violet cool
Than sip the glowing wine;
Better to hark a hidden brook
Than watch a diamond shine.
Better to sit at a master’s feet
Than thrill a listening state;
Better suspect that thou art proud
Than be sure that thou art great.
The Falling Long and Slow Inflection
Note: The italicized words are given a long, slow, downward glide:
Whoever would _have thought of that_!
Yes, it is gone _forever and ever_.
Well, _did you ever_!
* * * * *
Under the one, _the Blue_;
Under the other, _the Gray_.
* * * * *
No, sir! these walls, these columns
Shall fly
From their firm base _as soon as I_.
* * * * *
These are the sins I fain
Would have thee _take away_:
_Malice_, and _cold disdain_,
_Hot anger_, _sullen hate_,
Scorn of _the lowly_, envy of _the great_,
And discontent that casts _a shadow gray_
On all the brightness of _the common day_.
Indicate the Inflected Words in the Following Excerpts
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: “O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
* * * * *
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble, and approved good masters,
That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her.
* * * * *
He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved
less at her hands.
Tell me not in mournful numbers.
I told you so. And you will, will you?
* * * * *
The Hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks,
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,—
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man!
...
It is ten o’clock:
Thus may we see how the world wags:
’Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an hour more ’twill be eleven;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale.
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o’er our fears,
Are all with thee,—are all with thee!
—LONGFELLOW.
_Exercises Containing a Variety of Inflections_
Let each pupil decide for himself what he believes to be the most
effective and proper inflections in the following. In doing this it is
well to have him state his reason. This act of reasoning will aid him in
concentrating upon the thought matter.
* * * * *
The cold feeble dawn of a January morning was stealing in at the windows
of the common sleeping room, when Nicholas, raising himself on his arm,
looked among the prostrate forms in search of the boy Smike.
“Now, then,” cried Squeer, from the bottom of the stairway, “are you
going to sleep all day, up there?”
“We shall be down directly, sir.”
“Down directly! You had better be down directly, or I’ll be down on some
of you in less time than directly. Where’s that Smike?”
Nicholas looked round again.
“He is not here, sir.”
“Don’t tell me a lie. He is.”
“He is not. Don’t tell me.”
Squeers bounced into the dormitory, and, swinging his cane in the air
ready for a blow, darted into the corner where Smike usually lay at
night. The cane descended harmlessly. There was nobody there.
“What does this mean? Where have you hid him?”
“I have seen nothing of him since last night.”
“Come, you won’t save him this way. Where is he?”
“At the bottom of the nearest pond for anything I know.”
—CHARLES DICKENS.
* * * * *
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal;
that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights;
that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
* * * * *
Breathes there a man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
“This is my own, my native land!”
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel-raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch concenter’d all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor’d, and unsung.
—SCOTT.
* * * * *
What constitutes a state?
Not high-raised battlement or labored mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts,
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No: _men_—high-minded _men_,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued
In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
Men, who their duties know,
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain.
—SIR WILLIAM JONES.
* * * * *
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in
faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how
like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god!
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,—to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’s eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacle on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
* * * * *
These are the gifts I ask
Of thee, Spirit serene:
Strength for the daily task,
Courage to face the road,
Good cheer to help bear the traveler’s load,
And, for the hours of rest that come between,
An inward joy in all things heard and seen.
—VAN DYKE.
* * * * *
These are the things I prize
And hold of dearest worth:
Light of sapphire skies,
Peace of the silent hills,
Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,
Music of birds, murmur of little rills,
Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass,
And, after showers,
The smell of flowers
And of the good brown earth,—
And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.
—VAN DYKE.
* * * * *
The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn:
God’s in his heaven—
All’s right with the world!
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unawares,
That the lowest boughs and the brush-wood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O’er night’s brim, day boils at last:
Boils, pure gold, o’er the cloud-cup’s brim
Where spurting and suppressed it lay,
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray
Of the eastern cloud, an hour away;
But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,
Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,
Rose, reddened, and its seething breast
Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world.
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
Oh, such a commotion under the ground
When March called, “Ho, there! ho!”
Such spreading of rootlets far and wide,
Such whispering to and fro.
And “Are you ready?” the Snowdrop asked;
“’Tis time to start, you know.”
“Almost, my dear,” the Scilla replied;
“I’ll follow as soon as you go.”
Then, “Ha! Ha! Ha!” a chorus came
Of laughter soft and low
From the millions of flowers under the ground—
Yes—millions—beginning to grow.
—From “_Nature in Verse_.” By kind permission of
_Silver, Burdett and Company_, Publishers.
* * * * *
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter’d spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies’ hands.
—TENNYSON.
* * * * *
Such a starved bank of moss till, that May-morn,
Blue ran the flash across: violets were born!
Sky—what a scowl of cloud till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud: splendid, a star!
World—how it walled about life with disgrace
Till God’s own smile came out: that was thy face!
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
The brooklet came from the mountain,
As sang the bard of old,
Running with feet of silver
Over the sands of gold!
Far away in the briny ocean
There rolled a turbulent wave,
Now singing along the sea-beach,
Now howling along the cave.
And the brooklet has found the billow,
Though they flowed so far apart,
And has filled with its freshness and sweetness
That turbulent, bitter heart.
—LONGFELLOW.
* * * * *
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
* * * * *
_Marcellus._ Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
_Bernardo._ In the same figure, like the king that’s dead.
_Marcellus._ Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
_Bernardo._ Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
_Horatio._ Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
_Bernardo._ It would be spoke to.
_Marcellus._ Question it, Horatio.
_Horatio._ What art thou that usurp’st this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!
_Marcellus._ It is offended.
_Bernardo._ See, it stalks away!
_Horatio._ Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! [_Exit Ghost._]
_Marcellus._ ’Tis gone, and will not answer.
_Bernardo._ How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
Is not this something more than phantasy?
What think you on’t?
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
_Gloucester._ Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
_Anne._ What black magician conjures up this fiend
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
_Gloucester._ Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys ...
Unmannered dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
_Brutus._ What, Lucius! ho!—
I cannot, by the progress of the stars,
Give guess how near the day.—Lucius, I say!—
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.—
When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! What, Lucius!
_Lucius._ Call’d you, my lord?
_Brutus._ Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.
_Lucius._ I will, my lord.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
Note: The following is good for the direct question and direct answer:
_Question._ Hold you the watch to-night?
_Answer._ We do, my lord.
_Question._ Arm’d, say you?
_Answer._ Arm’d, my lord.
_Question._ From top to toe?
_Answer._ My lord, from head to foot.
_Question._ Then saw you not his face?
_Answer._ O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
_Question._ What, look’d he frowningly?
_Answer._ A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
_Question._ Pale, or red?
_Answer._ Nay, very pale.
_Question._ And fix’d his eyes upon you?
_Answer._ Most constantly ...
_Question._ Stay’d it long?
_Answer._ While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred....
_Question._ His beard was grizzled? no?
_Answer._ It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver’d.
—SHAKESPEARE (dialogue between Hamlet, Marcellus and Bernardo).
* * * * *
“Yo ho, my boys!” said Fezziwig. “No more work to-night. Christmas Eve,
Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let’s have the shutters up, before a man can
say Jack Robinson!”
You wouldn’t believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged
into the street with the shutters—one, two, three—had ’em up in their
places—four, five, six—barred ’em and pinned ’em—seven, eight, nine—and
came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like race-horses.
“Hilli-ho!” cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with
wonderful agility. “Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room
here! Hilli-ho! Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!”
—DICKENS.
* * * * *
What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
* * * * *
I thank thee, good Tubal!—good news, good news! ha, ha!—Where? In Genoa?
EXERCISES DEVELOPING FORCE AND RATE OF SPEECH
The Problem
Here is a classification of people who speak peculiarly, or incorrectly,
_as far as voice is concerned_, with exercises for correction.
1. There are those who speak too fast.
2. There are those who speak too slow.
3. There are those who speak too low.
4. There are those who speak too loud.
5. There are those who speak too short with no melody of tone.
Yet all of these may enunciate and pronounce their words well. Besides
developing distinctness, we must gain _control_ and _adaptability_ of
speech. It is strange, yet true, that many speakers never increase the
force or volume of their voices when addressing a large assembly. They
use the same quiet, even tone appropriate in addressing a single person.
What is the result? They generally bore the audience, even though their
thoughts may be brilliant. There is no excuse for this, as a few hours’
study and practice will change it. Above all things one who attempts
public speaking must speak so that he can be heard. It is essential,
therefore, to give ourselves actual practice exercises which demand force
of utterance. Each student should demand of himself daily oral drill upon
certain exercises until he has mastered his own particular difficulty.
The best means of accomplishing this is to use material from good
literature. In the following pages, under several heads, is a variety
of splendid exercises for practice. Commit all, or at least a part,
to memory. Thus, while developing your speaking power, you will be
cultivating a taste for the best that our literature affords.
_To Develop Rapid Speech_
Note: In developing rapid speech be careful to retain clearness and
precision of utterance.
Now clear, pure, hard, bright, and one by one, like hail-stones,
Short words fall from his lips fast as the first of a shower,
Now in two-fold column Spondee, Iamb, and Trochee,
Unbroke, firm-set, advance, retreat, trampling along,—
Now with a sprightlier springingness, bounding in triplicate syllables,
Dance the elastic Dactylics in musical cadences on;
Now their voluminous coil intertangling like huge anacondas,
Roll overwhelmingly onward the sesquipedalian words.
—BROWNING.
(The above should be rendered in not less than eighteen seconds.)
* * * * *
You couldn’t pack a Broadwood half a mile—
You mustn’t leave a fiddle in the damp—
You couldn’t raft an organ up the Nile,
And play it in an Equatorial swamp.
_I_ travel with the cooking-pots and pails—
_I_’m sandwiched ’tween the coffee and the pork—
And when the dusty column checks and tails,
You should hear me spur the rearguard to a walk!
With my “Pilly-willy-winky-winky popp!”
(Oh, it’s any tune that comes into my head!)
So I keep ’em moving forward till they drop;
So I play ’em up to water and to bed.
—KIPLING.
* * * * *
Under his spurning feet, the road,
Like an arrowy Alpine river flow’d
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire,
Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire.
But, lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire;
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.
—READ.
* * * * *
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray.
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
A hurry of hoofs in the village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
—LONGFELLOW.
* * * * *
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!—
“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
—SCOTT.
* * * * *
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives—
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser,
Wherein all plunged and perished!
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
_To Develop Slow Speech_
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all the pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
—KIPLING.
* * * * *
Do you know the pile-built village where the sago-dealers trade—
Do you know the reek of fish and wet bamboo?
Do you know the steaming stillness of the orchid-scented glade
When the blazoned, bird-winged butterflies flap through?
It is there that I am going with my camphor, net, and boxes,
To a gentle, yellow pirate that I know—
To my little wailing lemurs, to my palms and flying-foxes,
For the Red Gods call me out and I must go!
He must go—go—go away from here!
On the other side the world he’s overdue!
‘Send the road is clear before you when the Springfret comes o’er you,
And the Red Gods call for you!
—KIPLING.
* * * * *
Who hath desired the Sea?—the sight of salt water unbounded—
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber
wind-hounded?
The sleek-barreled swell before storm, gray, foamless, enormous, and
growing—
Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing—
His Sea in no showing the same—his Sea and the same ’neath each showing—
His Sea as she slackens or thrills?
So and no otherwise—so and no otherwise—hillmen desire their Hills!
—KIPLING.
* * * * *
Slowly the mist o’er the meadow was creeping,
Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun,
When from his couch, while his children were sleeping,
Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun.
—OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
* * * * *
Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent
a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that
all men are created equal.
—ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
* * * * *
On a quiet autumn morning, in the land which he loved so well, and, as he
held, served so faithfully, the spirit of Robert Edward Lee left the clay
which it had so much ennobled, and traveled out of this world into the
great and mysterious land.
* * * * *
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day.
—BROWNING.
* * * * *
Toll for the brave!
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore!
—WILLIAM COWPER.
* * * * *
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
—TENNYSON.
* * * * *
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
All rivers seaward wend.
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
Weep for the nation’s friend.
Every home and hall was shrouded,
Every thoroughfare was still;
Every brow was darkly clouded,
Every heart was faint and chill.
...
Oh! the inky drop of poison
In our bitter draught of grief!
Oh! the sorrow of a nation
Mourning for its murdered chief!
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
Bound is the reaper’s sheaf—
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
All mortal life is brief.
Toll! Toll!
Toll! Toll!
Weep for the nation’s chief!
—CARMICHAEL.
* * * * *
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest,
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the
moonlight,
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit.
—LONGFELLOW.
_To Develop Loud Speech_
The great bell swung as ne’er before:
It seemed as it would never cease;
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was “War! _War!_ _WAR!_”
—T. B. READ.
* * * * *
Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.
Where is that infernal boy?
As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse.
Jove with us, Jove with us!
Forward, the Light Brigade.
A light! A light! A light! A light!
* * * * *
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
“Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!”
* * * * *
Is the torrent in spate? He must ford or swim.
Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff.
Does the tempest cry “halt”? What are tempests to him?
The Service admits not a “but” or an “if.”
While the breath’s in his mouth, he must bear without fail,
In the name of the Empress, the Overland Mail.
—KIPLING.
* * * * *
Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear
A spirit in your echoes answer me,
And bid your tenant welcome home again!
Hail! Hail! Oh, sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!
How huge you are! how mighty, and how free!
...
Ye are the things that tower, that shine,—whose smile
Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms,
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear
Of awe divine, whose subject never kneels
In mockery, because it is your boast
To keep him free! Ye guards of liberty,
I’m with you once again! I call to you
With all my voice! I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free!
—KNOWLES (“William Tell”).
* * * * *
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered.
—TENNYSON.
* * * * *
Hurrah! the land is safe, is safe; it rallies from the shock!
Ring round, ring round, ye merry bells, till every steeple rock!
Let trumpets blow and mad drums beat! let maidens scatter flowers!
The sun bursts through the battle smoke! Hurrah! the day is ours!
* * * * *
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head:
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves.
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
Advance our standards, set upon our foes!
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms.
_To Develop Melody of Speech_
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference,—as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
“This is no flattery: these are counselors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.”
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
I dip and I surge and I swing
In the rip of the racing tide,
By the gates of doom I sing,
On the horns of death I ride.
A ship-length overside,
Between the course and the sand,
Fretted and bound I bide
Peril whereof I cry.
Would I change with my brother a league inland?
(_Shoal! ’Ware shoal!_) Not I!
—KIPLING (“The Bell Buoy”).
* * * * *
Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.
* * * * *
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this, and nothing more.”
—POE.
* * * * *
Heigh, ho! heigh, ho! unto the green holly: most friendship is feigning,
most loving mere folly: then, heigh, ho! the holly! this life is most
jolly.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
Waken, lord and ladies gay,
On the mountains dawns the day;
All the jolly chase is here
With hawk and horse and hunting-spear;
Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,
Merrily, merrily mingle they,
Waken, lords and ladies gay.
—SCOTT.
* * * * *
And the humming-bird, that hung
Like a jewel up among
The tilted honey-suckle-horns,
They mesmerized, and swung
In the palpitating air,
Drowsed with odors strange and rare,
And, with whispered laughter, slipped away,
And left him hanging there.
...
By the brook with mossy brink
Where the cattle came to drink,
They thrilled and piped and whistled
With the thrush and bobolink,
Till the kine, in listless pause,
Switched their tails in mute applause,
With lifted heads, and dreamy eyes,
And bubble-dripping jaws.
—RILEY.
* * * * *
It was a lover and his lass
With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino!
That o’er the green cornfield did pass
In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time,
When birds do sing hey ding a ding:
Sweet lovers love the Spring.
—SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o’er-run
With the deluge of summer it receives.
—LOWELL.
* * * * *
O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
Floating and falling through the wood alone,
A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear!
—VAN DYKE.
* * * * *
Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit,
The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I.
—CELIA THAXTER.
* * * * *
If all the skies were sunshine,
Our faces would be fain
To feel once more upon them
The cooling plash of rain.
If all the world were music,
Our hearts would often long
For one sweet strain of silence,
To break the endless song.
If life were always merry,
Our souls would seek relief,
And rest from weary laughter
In the quiet arms of grief.
—VAN DYKE.
* * * * *
When May bedecks the naked trees
With tassels and embroideries,
And many blue-eyed violets beam
Along the edges of the stream,
I hear a voice that seems to say,
Now near at hand, now far away,
“_Witchery—witchery—witchery._”
—VAN DYKE.
* * * * *
Oh, the throb of the screw and the beat of the screw
And the swinging of the ship as she finds the sea.
Oh, the haze of the land as it sinks from view,
The land that is dear since it harbors you.
* * * * *
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men.
Wee folks, good folks,
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!
* * * * *
Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?
I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb’d I would sing and say,
“Who is it loves me? who loves not me?”
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
Low adown and around,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound,
Over the throne
In the midst of the hall;
Till that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleep in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.
Who would be
A merman bold,
Sitting alone,
Singing alone
Under the sea,
With a crown of gold,
On a throne?
I would be a merman bold,
I would sit and sing the whole of the day;
I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power;
But at night I would roam abroad and play
With the mermaids in and out of the rocks,
Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower;
And holding them back by their flowing locks.
I would kiss them often under the sea,
And kiss them again till they kissed me
Laughingly, laughingly;
And then we would away, away
To the pale-green sea-groves straight and high,
Chasing each other merrily.
—TENNYSON.