THRO' the faintest filigree Over the dim waters go Little ships of Arcady When the morning moon is low. I can hear the sailors' song From the blue edge of the sea, Passing like the lights along Thro' the dusky filigree. Then where moon and waters meet Sail by sail they pass away, With little friendly winds replete Blowing from the breaking day. And when the little ships have flown, Dreaming still of Arcady I look across the waves, alone In the misty filigree. |