Auditions

Note: choose ONE poem from the following to memorize and perform for your audition.

In Praise of Dust

by Rachel Field

Dust is such a pleasant thing -

A soft gray kind of covering

For furniture, whereon to draw

Letters and pictures by the score.

Why won't the grown-ups let dust stay,

Instead of brushing it away?

The Snowball

by Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball

As perfect as could be

I thought I'd keep it as a pet

and let it sleep with me

I made it some pajamas

and a pillow for its head

Then last night it ran away

but first---it wet the bed!

Stairs

by Oliver Herford

Here's to the man who invented stairs

And taught our feet to soar!

He was the first who ever burst

Into a second floor.

The world would be downstairs today

Had he not found the key;

So let his name go down to fame,

...whatever it may be.

The Puzzled Centipede

by Mrs. Edward Craster

The centipede was happy quite,

Until a toad in fun

Said "Pray, which leg goes after which?"

That worked her mind to such a pitch,

She lay distracted in a ditch

Considering how to run.

If I Were King

by A.A. Milne

I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.

If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.

If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.

I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.

If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.

If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.

If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.

If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"

The following poems are a little more serious/complex for those who want to attempt something slightly more difficult:

Fireflies in the Garden

by Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

I Never Saw a Moor

by Emily Dickinson

I never saw a moor,

I never saw the sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

and what a wave must be

I never spoke with God,

Nor visited in heaven;

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if a chart were given.

I Died for Beauty

by Emily Dickinson

I died for beauty, but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb,

When one who died for truth was lain

In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?

"For beauty," I replied.

"And I for truth,- the two are one'

We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met at night,

We talked between the rooms,

Until the moss had reached our lips,

And covered up our names.

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

by William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

-Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

selections from Macavity: the Mystery Cat

by T.S. Eliot

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw-

For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.

He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:

For when they reach the scene of crime - MACAVITY'S NOT THERE!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity

For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.

You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square -

But when a crime's discovered, then MACAVITY'S NOT THERE!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,

There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.

He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:

At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY'S NOT THERE!

And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known

(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)

are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time

Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!