Far in the hills the Green Loch lies,
Its constant emerald mocks at the skies;
Though they be garmented grey or blue
Never the Green Loch changes hue;
For at earliest dawn, when the winds are still,
Over the brow of the western hill
The fairies come in a happy throng
With elfin laughter and elfin song
Trooping down to the water-side
To bathe in its cool enchanted tide.
Over and under they flash about,
They race with the shy little silver trout,
They twist and tumble and dart and dive
Till all the lake is alight and alive,
And glows with a tremulous sparkling sheen
Like the jewelled robe of an Eastern queen.
25But ere the morning has well begun
They all come leaping forth to the sun.
They hang for a shimmering moment there
Shaking their curls in the warm bright air,
While the water drops from their delicate wings
And dapples the lake with quivering rings,
Then rise like thistledown over the trees
And float away on the heather-sweet breeze.
They leave not a sign, they leave not a trace,
A slumberous calm lies over the place;
Only the green, green waters bide
To tell the secret they never can hide.