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, Oh, rain me down from your darks that contain 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 sweet, sad song the whole night long In a dream I rest in the old home nest, As came she oft with a step as soft The drip, drip, drip of the rain. Oh, the drip, drip, drip of the rain, the rain, As it weaves the woof of the song on the roof While the waves, soft-tossed, in my dreams are lost 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 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 of the humming bird flashing by; Oh for the freedom, the freedom of wings! Oh to winnow the air with wings; To touch in a moment the mountain's crest, Over and over a voice in me sings, Softly responsive a voice in me sings, Outspeeding the sailor, Faith's pinions may 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: Then the little boy's mother flew over the trees You imagine, no doubt, that the tale I have mixed, Author not known |