For Uncle showed me the "Leader" there, With his pale, bleak forehead and long, black hair; Showed me the "Second," and "'Cello," and "Bass," And the "B-Flat," pouting and puffing his face At the little end of the horn he blew Silvery bubbles of music through; And he coined me names of them, each in turn, Some comical name that I laughed to learn, Clean on down to the last and best,-- The lively little man, never at rest, Who hides away at the end of the string, And tinkers and plays on everything,-- That's "The Little Man in the Tinshop"! Raking a drum like a rattle of hail, Clinking a cymbal or castanet; Chirping a twitter or sending a wail Through a piccolo that thrills me yet; Reeling ripples of riotous bells, And tipsy tinkles of triangles-- Wrangled and tangled in skeins of sound Till it seemed that my very soul spun round, As I leaned, in a breathless joy, toward my Radiant uncle, who snapped his eye And said, with the courtliest wave of his hand, "Why, that little master of all the band Is 'The Little Man in the Tinshop'! {63} [Illustration: The orchestra, with its melody] {65} "And I've heard Verdi, the Wonderful, And Paganini, and Ole Bull, Mozart, Handel, and Mendelssohn, And fair Parepa, whose matchless tone Karl, her master, with magic bow, Blent with the angels', and held her so Tranced till the rapturous Infinite-- And I've heard arias, faint and low, From many an operatic light Glimmering on my swimming sight Dimmer and dimmer, until, at last, I still sit, holding my roses fast For 'The Little Man in the Tinshop.'" Oho! my Little Man, joy to you-- And _yours_--and _theirs_--your lifetime through! Though _I've_ heard melodies, boy and man, Since first "the show" of my life began, Never yet have I listened to Sadder, madder, or gladder glees Than your unharmonied harmonies; For yours is the music that appeals To all the fervor the boy's heart feels-- All his glories, his wildest cheers, His bravest hopes, and his brightest tears; And so, with his first bouquet, he kneels To "The Little Man in the Tinshop." {66} [Illustration: Tommy Smith--headpiece] TOMMY SMITH Dimple-cheeked and rosy-lipped, With his cap-rim backward tipped, Still in fancy I can see Little Tommy smile on me-- Little Tommy Smith. Little unsung Tommy Smith-- Scarce a name to rhyme it with; Yet most tenderly to me Something sings unceasingly-- Little Tommy Smith. {67} On the verge of some far land Still forever does he stand, With his cap-rim rakishly Tilted; so he smiles on me-- Little Tommy Smith. Elder-blooms contrast the grace Of the rover's radiant face-- Whistling back, in mimicry, "Old--Bob--White!" all liquidly-- Little Tommy Smith. O my jaunty statuette Of first love, I see you yet. Though you smile so mistily, It is but through tears I see, Little Tommy Smith.