We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.

I ask, "But, how am I to get up to you?" They answer, "Come to
the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you
will be taken up into the clouds."

"My mother is waiting for me at home," I say. "How can I leave
her and come?"

Then they smile and float away.

But I know a nicer game than that, mother.

I shall be the cloud and you the moon.

I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be
the blue sky.

The folk who live in the waves call out to me--

"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."

I ask, "But, how am I to join you?" They tell me, "Come to the
edge of the shore and stand with your eyes tight shut, and you
will be carried out upon the waves."

I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the evening--how can
I leave her and go?"