he remembered his mother leaning toward him , her face pied with that lovely various light , her hood thrown back so he could trace the curve of her neck with the eye of a child ( it 's all magic ) and the soul of a lover ; he remembered thinking how he would court her and win her from his father , if she would have him ; how they would marry and have children of their own and live forever in that fairy-tale kingdom called the all-a-glow ; and how she sang to him , how gabrielle deschain sang to her little boy with his big eyes looking solemnly up at her from his pillow and his face already stamped with the many swimming colors of his wandering life , singing a lilting nonsense song that went like this : baby-bunting , baby-dear , baby , bring your berries here .