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<h2> THE HUMMING TOP </h2>
<p>The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song<br/>
To my dear little boy at play—<br/>
Merrily singeth all day long,<br/>
As it spinneth and spinneth away.<br/>
And my dear little boy<br/>
He laugheth with joy<br/>
When he heareth the monotone<br/>
Of that busy thing<br/>
That loveth to sing<br/>
The song that is all its own.<br/>
Hold fast the string and wind it tight,<br/>
That the song be loud and clear;<br/>
Now hurl the top with all your might<br/>
Upon the banquette here;<br/>
And straight from the string<br/>
The joyous thing<br/>
Boundeth and spinneth along,<br/>
And it whirrs and it chirrs<br/>
And it birrs and it purrs<br/>
Ever its pretty song.<br/>
Will ever my dear little boy grow old,<br/>
As some have grown before?<br/>
Will ever his heart feel faint and cold,<br/>
When he heareth the songs of yore?<br/>
Will ever this toy<br/>
Of my dear little boy,<br/>
When the years have worn away,<br/>
Sing sad and low<br/>
Of the long ago,<br/>
As it singeth to me to-day?<br/></p>
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