CROSSING THE BAR Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning at the bar, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. -Lord Tennyson. The pleasant effect produced by this combination was called by the ancients, the "Silvery tone." The quietude and delicacy of this class of selections demand especial care in securing a pure, musical and effusive quality of voice. The more pure, gentle and continuous the tones can be made, the more effective and pleasant will be the results of the reading. To secure high pitch, let the voice ascend the musical scale three or four notes, beginning with the pitch of ordinary conversation. SELECTIONS OF SERENITY, BEAUTY, LOVE ENDYMION The rising moon has hid the stars; With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, Had dropt her silver bow On such a tranquil night as this, Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, It comes, the beautiful, the free, To seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep, Of him, who slumbering lies. O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes! No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds, as if with unseen wings, "Where hast thou stayed so long!" Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, With thy bells of Shandon, Of the river Lee. I've heard bells chiming Brass tongues would vibrate; Spoke naught like thine. For memory, dwelling I've heard bells tolling But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly. Oh! the bells of Shandon The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. There's a bell in Moscow; The Turkman gets, And loud in air Calls men to prayer, From the tapering summit Of tall minarets. Such empty phantom 'Tis the bells of Shandon, Of the river Lee. Francis Mahony. MARY DONNELLY O lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best! Her eyes like mountain water that's flowing on a rock, Red rowans warm in sunshine, and wetted with a shower, Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows lifted up, |