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The Song Shop by Annette Wynne

Tink, tink, tink,
Hear the pretty pieces clink.
How the busy worker sings
As his tiny hammer rings.
Little songs are fashioned so,
Placed all sweetly in a row.
Stars and colored bits of glass,
Look in, children, as you pass;
See, the songsmith's happy things,
Bells, and laughs, and fairy wings;
Silver-dreams and dreams of gold—
(Songsmith, are you really old?—
Making pretty songs all day—
Are you really old and gray?)

Tink, tink, tink,
We can hear the chink;
Pretty songs are fashioned so,
Placed all sweetly in a row.
See the songsmith's happy things—
Bells and laughs and fairy wings,
Stars, and all-assorted things.

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What is a song? by Unknown Author

What is a song?
This is a true friend.
The song is joy
Loud laughter all around

A thousand melodies, surf voices ...
There is nothing in the world
Music is more wonderful
Because music is always with you!

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Unsung by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse

The songs I have not sung to you
Will wake me in the night
And hover in the dark like birds
Whose wings are tipped with light.

Like birds with restless, eager wings
That quiver for their flight,
The songs I have not sung to you
Will wake me in the night.

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I'm Saddest When I Sing by William Henry Dawson

It's not because my soul is filled
With love, or joy, or praise,
Or, that with sentiment 'tis thrilled,
That tuneful song I raise:

It's not that Fortune's hand has dealt
To me more than my share:
It does not mean that I've not felt
The blight of want and care;

It simply means, I do not want
My friends to share the sting
That in my heart is buried,
So I try to smile and sing.

I trip about from room to room
Light as a bird on wing,
And sing and shout and laugh—but still
I'm saddest when I sing.