I walked along the river bank through many an hour of dreaming,
imagining the fairy world that lay beyond its seeming,
its overhangs were council halls, it seemed they rang with greetings,
as the seats of mangrove roots filled up at the fairyville town meeting.
Under bridges dark and drear, trows and boggans creeping,
tiptoe as you pass them by, we’ll not disturb their sleeping.
butterflies dance slow pavannes, above the rivers gleaming,
if you should chance to look away, they drop their insect seemings,
and shining bright, the fairies dance, with glowing wings aflutter,
but look again and all that’s left is the waters passing mutter.