Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o’er the combers, looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow;
Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.
It begins with a cautionary tale about swimming too far on your own, while you're still a baby. Something about summer gales and killer whales. But the last 3 lines should be printed on maternity dresses: Just splash and grow strong And you can't go wrong Child of the open sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this this poem, and I am so grateful the words were set to music and that I got to sing it with our college choir. The interdisciplinary effect is tremendous.