WHAT song shall I sing to you Now the wee ones are in bed, What books shall I bring to you Now each little sleepy head Is tucked away on pillow white, All snug and cosy for the night. Many many singers now, Sing their new songs in the land, Many writers bring us now Many books to understand, But I can sing, these evening times, Only the children's songs and rhymes. All the day they play with me, My heart grows full of their looks, All their prattle stays with me, And I have no mind for books, Nor care for any other tune Than they have sung this golden June. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOILS OF THE DEAD by ROBERT FROST MADRIGAL: 109 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON SOMETIMES WITH ONE I LOVE by WALT WHITMAN A SONG FOR THE SINGLE TABLE ON NEW YEAR'S DAY by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST PRAISE OF WATER by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE |