Answer:
It's all about controlling your tone, sound, and more.
Explanation:
These are the starting points. But here is a guide. Try saying the lines out loud.
<em>italics lines = </em>dramatic
bold lines= powerful
"The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but <em>one</em> inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A <em>sickly</em> silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
<em>Clung</em> to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a <em>whack</em> at that—
We’d put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a <em>lulu</em> and the latter was a <em>cake</em>;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-<em>hugging</em> third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a <em>lusty</em> yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was <em>ease</em> in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was <em>pride</em> in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a <em>sneer</em> curled Casey’s lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That <em>ain’t </em>my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“<em>Kill</em> him! <em>Kill</em> the umpire!” shouted someone on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He <em>signaled</em> to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”
“<em>Fraud</em>!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles <em>strain</em>,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he <em>lets</em> it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere <em>hearts</em> are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children <em>shout</em>;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has<em> struck out.
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This is the way that I would say it, but you can switch it up. Sounding dramatic when needed and sounding intense when needed are the best ways to say this poem.
Hopefully this helps you.
