EIGHT YEARS OLD.THE SINGING-LESSON.
A slender, liquid note,Long-drawn and silver-sweet.Obediently the little maidTries, timid still, and half afraid,The lesson to repeat.A breezy turn or two,A blithe and bold refrain,A ripple up and down the scale,And still the learner does not failTo echo soft the strain.A burst of melodyWild, rapturous, and long.A thousand airy runs and trillsLike drops from overflowing rills,—The vanquished pupil’s songBreaks into laughter sweet.And does her master chide?Nay; little Ethel’s music-roomIs mid the sunny garden’s bloom,Her roof the branches wide.With parted lips she standsAmong the flowers alone.Her teacher—hark! again he sings!A stir—a flash of startled wings—The little bird has flown!MARGARET JOHNSON.
A slender, liquid note,Long-drawn and silver-sweet.Obediently the little maidTries, timid still, and half afraid,The lesson to repeat.A breezy turn or two,A blithe and bold refrain,A ripple up and down the scale,And still the learner does not failTo echo soft the strain.A burst of melodyWild, rapturous, and long.A thousand airy runs and trillsLike drops from overflowing rills,—The vanquished pupil’s songBreaks into laughter sweet.And does her master chide?Nay; little Ethel’s music-roomIs mid the sunny garden’s bloom,Her roof the branches wide.With parted lips she standsAmong the flowers alone.Her teacher—hark! again he sings!A stir—a flash of startled wings—The little bird has flown!MARGARET JOHNSON.
A slender, liquid note,Long-drawn and silver-sweet.Obediently the little maidTries, timid still, and half afraid,The lesson to repeat.
A slender, liquid note,
Long-drawn and silver-sweet.
Obediently the little maid
Tries, timid still, and half afraid,
The lesson to repeat.
A breezy turn or two,A blithe and bold refrain,A ripple up and down the scale,And still the learner does not failTo echo soft the strain.
A breezy turn or two,
A blithe and bold refrain,
A ripple up and down the scale,
And still the learner does not fail
To echo soft the strain.
A burst of melodyWild, rapturous, and long.A thousand airy runs and trillsLike drops from overflowing rills,—The vanquished pupil’s song
A burst of melody
Wild, rapturous, and long.
A thousand airy runs and trills
Like drops from overflowing rills,—
The vanquished pupil’s song
Breaks into laughter sweet.And does her master chide?Nay; little Ethel’s music-roomIs mid the sunny garden’s bloom,Her roof the branches wide.
Breaks into laughter sweet.
And does her master chide?
Nay; little Ethel’s music-room
Is mid the sunny garden’s bloom,
Her roof the branches wide.
With parted lips she standsAmong the flowers alone.Her teacher—hark! again he sings!A stir—a flash of startled wings—The little bird has flown!MARGARET JOHNSON.
With parted lips she stands
Among the flowers alone.
Her teacher—hark! again he sings!
A stir—a flash of startled wings—
The little bird has flown!
MARGARET JOHNSON.