"Oh, mother, I lay
A-dreaming one day
By the wreck of the Alberdeen,
And I heard a singing
Under the sea
Of children swinging--
Their hair was green!--
In seaweed swings, and they called to me--
Oh, mother, they called to me"--
"Hush, hush thee, my child!
Thy prattle is wild,
For the children that dwell in the sea
Are the fishes swimming
Amid white shells
Whose pearly hymning
But echoed to thee
The strangled songs of the sinking swells--
My child, 'twas the song of the swells."
"And, mother," they said
"Come to us!--oh, dread
Not the waves tho' they fret and foam;
They're far, far over
Us while we play
Beneath the cover
Of our sea-home,
All day, all day o'er the beds of the bay!
Oh, mother, the beds of the bay!"
"Hush, hush thee, my child!"--
But strangely he smiled
As he gazed at the weird-lit waves.
For he heard a singing--
"Come to us, come!"
He saw them swinging
In crystal caves,
And cried, "I'm coming! I'm"--ah, how numb
His death-dewy lips--how numb!