It is again suggested that the student review pause at this point. Observe that pause and touch are in proportion. The longer the pause the more vigorous the touch. These two in alternation constitute rhythm or the pulsation of force. As thinking is rhythmic, expression must be rhythmic. Give one thing at a time with the right pause, not with hesitation, but a pause filled with thought, a preparation for speech and the touch or phrase accent directly following. The right proportion of these in some vigorous passage demands a great deal of work. It will correct many evils.

Observe in this poem the Japanese bugler who, though dying, tries to blow his bugle as a signal for the Japanese army to cross the stream and make a charge. We feel intense sympathy for his courage and noble deed. It is no wonder that his conduct has made the poem very popular among Japanese people.

Observe in reading it that deep and intense feeling causes deep breathing and long pauses which are followed by vigorous phrase accents with touch on the central word of each phrase. Hence, intense passages always accentuate the phrase accent and the length of the pause and all the conditions for tone.

XIX. CHANGE OF IDEAS AND PITCH

Ye lispers, whisperers, singers in storms,
Ye consciences murmuring faiths under forms,
Ye ministers meet for each passion that grieves,
Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves,

Oh, rain me down from your darks that contain me
Wisdoms ye winnow from winds that pain me, -

Hymns of the Marshes.

Lanier

When we take one idea or one impression and realize it fully, and then another which implies a change of attention, if there is a sense of difference between them in our minds the change in the mind causes also a change in pitch in the voice.

In the preceding, for example, if we call the words of the first line as if for someone to spell them they will follow

on the same pitch, but if every phrase or word requires such attention as to cause a specific image in the mind then each is given on a different pitch.

If you name the flowers in the first line of the above extract, giving one word after another as if you were counting them, you will observe that your words follow each other on the same pitch. If, however, you definitely picture in your mind each of these flowers and see them as if you were introducing them to someone's attention you will change your pitch as you pass from one to another. Observe also that as you present other flowers mentioned in the poem they will each be upon a different pitch. "Primroses " and "violets" will be in a separate part of your voice because you see them as different things. Then when you come to the flower which the poet especially chooses as the object of admiration there will be a still greater change. This happens in conversation. In talking, our voices seem to leap up and down at random. It does not make much difference whether we go up or whether we go down; it seems sometimes that one direction is as good as another, but we must change. When the voice stays on one pitch we are not natural.

We need to contrast the pictures of the mind. We must move or progress from one idea to another. This life of the mind, this skipping and varying, gives a meaning to the voice.

If you render naturally this poem by Nixon Waterman you find in giving “drip, drip, drip," as if you in your imagination really hear the rain, you will give the words "drip " on one pitch because you do not make any new picture in speaking the successive words. You merely repeat the

same word in a way to sustain the same picture in the mind.

In the short lines of the poem observe moreover that each successive phrase is so well chosen as to express definitely the distinct picture, and that if you realize each of these individually you are naturally led to express them upon a different pitch.

THE DREAM-SONG

Oh, the drip, drip, drip of the rain, the rain,
The drip, drip, drip of the rain;

The sweet, sad song the whole night long
Is sung in my drowsy brain.

In a dream I rest in the old home nest,
And my mother comes again

As came she oft with a step as soft
As the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
The rain,

The drip, drip, drip of the rain.

Oh, the drip, drip, drip of the rain, the rain,
The drip, drip, drip of the rain;

As it weaves the woof of the song on the roof
With the warp of the sound at the pane.
And my dream-ship sails with the happy gales
That ripple the broad, blue main,

While the waves, soft-tossed, in my dreams are lost
Mid the drip, drip, drip of the rain,

The rain,

The drip, drip, drip of the rain.

Oh, the drip, drip, drip of the rain, the rain,

The drip, drip, drip of the rain;

Like the drowsy croon of bees in June

Is the song and the soft refrain.

And I drift away through a golden bay

By the shores of my castled Spain,

While my soul grows young in the dream-song sung
Mid the drip, drip, drip of the rain,

The rain,

The drip, drip, drip of the rain.

"A Book of Verses," by permission of the author.

Nixon Waterman

In general, when you pass from one picture to another, each being definite, your discrimination in passing from one to another causes a change of pitch.

WINGS

Wings that flutter in sunny air;
Wings that dive and dip and dare;

Wings of the humming bird flashing by;
Wings of the lark in the open sky;
Wings of the eagle aloft, aloof;
Wings of the pigeon upon the roof;
Wings of the storm bird swift and free,
With wild winds sweeping across the sea;
Often and often a voice in me sings,

Oh for the freedom, the freedom of wings!

Oh to winnow the air with wings;
Oh to float far above hurtful things,
Things that weary and wear and fret;
Deep in the azure to fly and forget;

To touch in a moment the mountain's crest,
Or haste to the valley for home and rest;
To rock with the pine tree as wild birds may;
To follow the sailor a summer's day;

Over and over a voice in me sings,
Oh for the freedom, the freedom of wings!

Softly responsive a voice in me sings,
Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings;
Soon as the glass a second can count,
Into the heavens thy heart may mount;
Hope may fly to the topmost peak;
Love its nest in the vale may seek;

Outspeeding the sailor, Faith's pinions may
Touch the ends of the earth in a summer's day;
Softly responsive a voice in me sings,

Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings!

Mrs. Mary Frances Butts

An example of this can be found in any sentence we speak. Observe, in reading "Wings," the change from "dip" to "dare." Notice still greater changes with "humming bird," "lark," "eagle," "pigeon," storm bird." Read and try how widely your change of ideas makes you vary pitch. At the same time your reading grows more natural and forceful.

Read this poem about November. Speak about the crops, the apples, and pumpkins. Observe that as you pass from object to object, whenever you allow a spontaneous picture, your voice also changes with your mind.

Can you read something, allowing your mind great freedom, to see whatever comes up before it? Let one thing come and give that, and then let another come into your mind, and give that as something different from what you gave before.

You observe that the more playful the mind is, the more we change pitch. You must allow your ideas and feelings to vary playfully and to dominate your words. If you do this then your tones will be filled with meaning and your words will be given with care, not in a mechanical way.

THE BOY AND THE ROBIN

Once a sweet boy sat and swung on a limb:
On the ground stood a robin-bird looking at him.
Now the boy he was good, but the robin was bad,
So he shied a big stone at the head of the lad,
And it killed the poor boy, and the robin was glad.

Then the little boy's mother flew over the trees
"Tell me, where is my boy, little robin-bird, please?
"He is safe in my pocket," the robin-bird said,
And another stone shied at the fond mother's head,
And she fell at the feet of the wicked bird, dead.

You imagine, no doubt, that the tale I have mixed,
But it wasn't by me that the story was fixed;
'T was a dream a boy had after killing a bird,
And he dreamed it so loud that I heard every word,
And I jotted it down as it truly occurred.
Adapted from "Good Works."

Author not known