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.
I've started reading it each night in an attempt to commit it to memory, and Neeps definitely gets called "Weary Wee Flipperling" as a result (he also gets called "My Mowgli" because sometimes he is a little naked frog). Tonight I started dreaming of ways to turn the poem into another piece of art for his walls, in no small part because my patronus is totally a seal:
|Pen in moleskine, naturally|