Learning to Play

Upon a tall piano stool I have to sit and play A stupid finger exercise For half an hour a day.

They call it "playing," but to me It's not a bit of fun. I play when I am out of doors, Where I can jump and run.

But Mother says the little birds Who sing so nicely now, Had first to learn, and practice too, All sitting on a bough.

And maybe if I practice hard, Like them, I too, some day, Shall make the pretty music sound; Then I shall call it "play."