The Humming Top

The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet

To my dear little boy at play -Merrily singeth all day long,

As it spinneth and spinneth away.

And my dear little

He laugheth with

When he heareth the

Of that busy

That loveth to

The song that is all its own.

Hold fast the string and wind it tight,

That the song be loud and clear;

Now hurl the top with all your

Upon the banquette here;

And straight from the

The joyous

Boundeth and spinneth along,

And it whirrs and it

And it birrs and it

Ever its pretty song.

Will ever my dear little boy grow old,

As some have grown before?

Will ever his heart feel faint and cold,

When he heareth the songs of yore?

Will ever this

Of my dear little boy,

When the years have worn away,

Sing sad and

Of the long ago,

As it singeth to me to-day?