Willynilly floating.
“Thee art o’erfed on pudding,” she added to Mrs. Curran. “This sauce is but a butter-whip.”
And now, having briefly referred to the technique of the poems, and explained the manner in which they are transmitted we will make a more systematic presentation of them. For a beginning, nothing better could be offered than the Spinning Wheel lullaby heretofore referred to.
In it we can see the mother of, perhaps, the Puritan days, seated at the spinning wheel while she sings to the child which is supposed to lie in the cradle by her side. One can view through the open door the old-fashioned flower garden bathed in sunlight, can hear the song of the bird and the hum of the bee, and through it all the sound of the wheel. But!—it is the song of a childless woman to an imaginary babe: Patience has declared herself a spinster.
Strumm, strumm!
Ah, wee one,
Croon unto the tendrill tipped with sungilt,
Nodding thee from o’er the doorsill there.
Strumm, strumm!
My wheel shall sing to thee.