My mother dandled me and sang
"How young it is, how young!"
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung
"He went away," my mother sang
"When I was brought to bed,"
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown
"When she was got," my mother sang
"I heard a sea-mew cry
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh."
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?
"How young it is, how young!"
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung
"He went away," my mother sang
"When I was brought to bed,"
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown
"When she was got," my mother sang
"I heard a sea-mew cry
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh."
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?
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