Explore "The Humming Top" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song / To my dear little boy at play -- / Merrily singeth all day long, / As it spinneth and spinneth away. / And my dear little boy / He laugheth with joy / When he heareth the monotone / Of that busy thing / That loveth to sing / 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 might / Upon the banquette here; / And straight from the string / The joyous thing / Boundeth and spinneth along, / And it whirrs and it chirrs / And it birrs and it purrs / 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 toy / Of my dear little boy, / When the years have worn away, / Sing sad and low / Of the long ago, / As it singeth to me to-day?