The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1892-03-09
A FORGOTTEN POEM.
One Bashful Little Girls Experience With
Her Recitation.

Her Recitation.
Last day" was near at hand, and
preparations for it filed our minds.
Even those of us who were to be spec
tators only looked on with delighted IN
terest at the daily drill taking place be-
fore and between and after the regular
lessons. Echoes of it reached the out
side world, moreover, although the
schoolhouse was buried deep in the
woods, far from the nearest house, and
back from the road. This little brown
house was the theater; the stage-the
masters platform cleared of desk and
chair-the actors, all who were scholar
ly or smart" or especially gifted in
oratory.
Deep in my own heart lay the pride
of new accomplishment, poem, long
for seven years old, that / could say
without the book 1t was a charming
little story of two robins, told by them
selves to certain pleasant old gentle
man to be imagined. The story was
full of the tender details of homemade
ing and housekeeping in tall elm tree.
The master smiled when / asked him
if might "speak piece" on last day
so shy / was always, fearing the sound
of my own voice in the daily primer
lesson-but he did not refuse.
TO surprise those at Nome with the
performance was part of the plan, so |
had to watch my chance to practice un-
observed in the little kitchen bed room.
A small loolSing-glass, hung high
against the wall, served my purpose,
for fitting it forward with a chip
/ could see almost down to my feet /
practiced my bow before it, in all the
little moments alone that could steal.
Indeed, tried many kinds of bows be-
fore | hit upon one to suit-the one
when l poised robin-wise, with head
tipped sideways, and winsome, con-
fiding look on my face, BETTING the
opening lines:
I'm little robin redbreast, sir,
My nest is in tree;
If you look up in yonder elm
My pleasant home you'll see.
The bow once perfected, | could go on
easily with the other seven verses to
the perfect satisfaction of the audience
behind the looking-glass.
By happy chance my mother dressed
me for 'last day" in my best blue
merino frock, with peaked jet buttons
all down the back. 1t is true they
were hard to lean back against but
the effect would be pretty as | stepped
up on to the stage.
The exercises went forward smooth
ly, and lost in delighted satisfaction in
my little friends, listening and looking
and wandering, forgot my own part
till the master smiled towards me and
beclkoned. went forward in dizzy
shyness, turned round to see before me
rows upon rows of faces. eager chill
dren gazing, the neighbors' wives look
ing frankly astonlshed, and among
them my mother flushed and troubled
Far less gracefully bowed to then
than to the loolSing-glass, and began tc
speak, my heart beating so loudly
from fears of my own so real that the
robins little story was sadly 1umbleo
up. Not a confidential robin wa'
speaking now-but frightened little
girl instead, hurrying whisperingly
through the dainty particulars of thu
elm-tree nest.
| bowed again-this time to Mrs
Reuben Dodge, who sat directly il
front; then fled to my seat.
There was murmur of applause
everyone smiled pleasantly. Just thel
a shabby little girl, my seat-mate
never very dear to me, gave into m.
hand, out of the close clutch of her no
little fingers, grimy penny. l thrus
it back coldly. trust she was glad
did. With the sweet breath of ap
proval round me, and in the flush o
delicious success, needed no materia
gift and pledge of affection. My Gu
was full.-Louise Lyndon, in Wild
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