That bears on its bosom a baby fleet,
As the sunbeam many a shining mote.
So swiftly the babies are sweeping along
As if a breeze in the sail blew strong,
Yet no waves beat, for it is not the wind
But the crooning of many a mother-song.
Down Slumber river their course they keep,
Until they come to the sea of Sleep;
And the mermaids tell them of wonderful things,
For they are the dreams that arise from the deep.