Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing, And tell her stories of everything. She is tired of my singing just "Sleep, dear, sleep," She is tired of the songs about Little Bo-Peep. Jack Horner, Miss Muffet, and all of the rhymes I have sung from my picture-book dozens of times. Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing, And tell her the stories of everything! Slumber, my dolly! I'll tell you to-night Of trees that are blossoming rosy and white; Of brooks where the ripples of brown water run And tinkle like music and shine in the sun; Of nests where the baby birds sit in a heap, And the mother sits over them when they're asleep. Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing, And tell her the stories of everything! The summer is green and the winter is white, There is sunshine by day and star-shine at night; The stars are so many it cannot be told, The moon is of silver but they are of gold; The clouds are like ships and the sky like the sea, Only turned upside down over dolly and me. Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing, But I never can tell her of everything! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXILE OF ERIN by THOMAS CAMPBELL A POET'S EPITAPH by EBENEZER ELLIOTT LEARNING TO READ by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER A MINUET ON REACHING THE AGE OF FIFTY by GEORGE SANTAYANA MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON |