Down the grassy lane by the forest,

Where has never once been a tourist,

And chirping birds sing overhead,

Near their nesting where they make their bed,

And across the rock shore can now be seen,

The water shimmering cold and keen,

And still the rocks sang, while water ran over them,

And frogs and toads sing when the lights dim.

And now in the dark—

The waterfalls tinkle like a fire spark—

That flames high in the heavens above the waters’ head,

And chase the sun to bed,

And silver the water drips down,

And mistily it creates the pond, where is one small town—

Of rocks and pebbles, grasses and dirt,

And there the fish live while the dwarves blurt.

And silver beads it looks like,

That tinkle down and splash below when on a hike,

And in the pool, the moonlight shines silver-magic,

And down below the surface, the roofs to the fish’s houses are fabric,

And as the creek tumbles and plays,

They eat and drink and talk another way—

For they are different and not akin,

To those who have a human skin.

And over the glassy surface the water maidens dance,

Flowing from their hair the water’s foam prance,

And the fairies joined hands with them,

Their slender hands in the giant hands, when—

Far off the smell of elves came,

Then the elves appeared, riding on the wind—tame,

And from their fair voices the flowers grew,

And enlaced themselves in the wind as it blew.

And under the feet of the elves the flowers fly,

And roses swam under in the pond, below the sky,

And then the rocks and pebbles sang,

And from then the elves song began again,

And tossing did the flowers come down,

And making a small arch to it they bound,

And still riding, the elves came down to the level of the rock-beach,

And the fish came up to the elves for them to teach.

And fern and bracken wave under the wind,

And the leaves on the trees begin to bend

And loosen their hold on their lofty branch,

And descend like colorful confetti and dance,

And then they slid down to the water bank,

And from there to the water where they became dank,

And still floating, the elves watch,

And from their perch the wind made an arch.

And laughing now the water maidens rise,

And from their hands is clasped the most lovely prize,

And from the brow the water hangs like a pearl,

And from their shoes the ferns curl,

And from their green boughs the fish come,

And then, suddenly, the singing is done,

And then fly off the fair elves on their wind,

And then all goes to sleep, and their homes do not bend,

As rocky shores drift, and so the waterfall tinkles by itself some more.