Magical pools

In front of us the inlet was strange, magical: dark branches and flowing ripples and mysterious light striking sparks off the water as off iron.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest roses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.