SWIM, white Moon, in the dusky blue,Swim in the still dark sky.Soft are the clouds that cover you;And Jimmy and Alice and ISome time, perhaps, a journey will makeAcross the sea on your silver wake.
Swing, white Moon, to the breeze that blowsFrom the Milky Way so bright.Alice told me (and Alice knows),That I may climb up some night,And swing in the cradle you make for me,Higher than even the highest tree.
