Sway to and fro in the twilight gray,—
This is the ferry for Shadowtown.
It always sails at the end of day,
Just as the darkness is closing down.
Rest, little head, on my shoulder,—so!
A sleepy kiss is the only fare;
Drifting away from the world we go,
Baby and I, in the rocking-chair.
See, where the firelogs glow and spark,
Glitter the lights of the Shadowland.
The winter rains on the window—hark!
Are ripples lapping upon its strand.
There, where the mirror is glancing dim,
A lake lies shimmering, cool and still.
Blossoms are waving above its brim,—
Those over there on the window-sill.
Rock slow, more slow, in the dusky light;
Silently lower the anchor down.
Dear little passenger, say Goodnight,
We've reached the harbor of Shadowtown.
