I KNOW a Song that is all my own singing— But the Birds and the Bees and the Wind and Bells ringing Cry: "Where did you find it? It can't be a new one— We know every song and we never gave @3you@1 one!" Droned the Bee with a bumble: "Is your song like mine is? I lost one to-day on the hill where wild thyme is." "And I," piped the Lark, "left one hid in the clover, Perhaps your song is mine—will you please hum it over?" "No need," tolled the Bell, "all intelligent people Know a song is no song 'till it's rung from a steeple." "Mine is!" snapped the Cricket, so cross his eyes glistened, "I'm @3sure@1 she hid under a grass-blade and listened!" "Oh!" gurgled the Rain, "I am all pit-a-patter— This stealing of songs is a serious matter!" "Perhaps it was lent," lisped the Brook, "though I doubt it— Let the child give it back and say no more about it." "She has nothing to give!" spoke the Poplar, unbending, "Pray pay no attention—the child's just pretending." "Pretending or not!" boomed the Wind, "as the Leader Of Madam Earth's Chorus I say @3we don't need her!@1" Oh dear! They're so jealous! They don't like my knowing A Song all my own. But I do—and it's growing! |