THE VIOLET. JANE TAYLOR. [To be delivered simply and unaffectedly.] Down in a green and shady bed Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, And yet it was a lovely flower, It might have graced a rosy bower Yet there it was content to bloom, And there diffused its sweet perfume Then let me to the valley go, This pretty flower to see, THE COWBOY'S SONG. MRS. ANNA M. WELLS. [Give this piece in a coaxing tone of voice, and imitate the "mooing" of a cow at the end of each stanza.] "Mooly cow, mooly cow, home from the wood I have let the long bars down-why don't you pass thro'?" The mooly cow only said, "Mo0-0-0 !" "Mooly cow, mooly cow, whisking your tail GRAMMAR IN RHYME. ANON [Speak every word distinctly; make the proper pauses. Three little words you often see Are articles, a, an, and the. A noun's the name of anything, Conjunctions join the words together, The proposition stands before The interjection shows surprise, The whole are called nine parts of speech, THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL. R. W. EMERSON. [To be given in a natural, descriptive manner The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig ;" Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big, But all sorts of things and weather To make up a year, And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track. Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; GOOD AND BAD. ANON. There was a little girl, And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good She was very good, But when she was bad she was horrid ! THE LITTLE DUTCHMAN. MARY MAPES DODGE. [Speak with a broken accent, boldly.] Oh, I'm a little Tuchman, My name is Van der Dose, I smells it mit my nose. An' ven dey vill not let me play An' ven dey makes me vork too hard An' ven dey sends me off to bed An' ven dey comes to vake me up My name is Van der Dose, THAT BOY. GEORGE COOPER. [Deliver this paying attention to the rising inflection of the voice in almost every line.] Is the house turned topsy-turvy? Will the racket still continue, Spite of all your mild reproof? Are Are you sometimes filled with joy? That you have at home-that boy. Are your walls and tables lammered? Who delights but to destroy? Have you seen him playing circus, When his merry pranks annoy,— You were once just like-that boy? And with nobody to blame? Of perplexity and joy? You may have a dozen daughters, THE NEW MOON. MRS. FOLLEN. [To be spoken simply and naturally, in your ordinary tone of voice] Dear mother, how pretty She was never so cunning before; Are so sharp and so bright, I hope she'll not grow any more. |