Sequins of moonlight quiver and gleam,
Dance to the music, the waltz of the stream;
Laugh in the night of a midsummer’s dream.
Walls set with jewels of diamonds and pearls
Echo the voices of lost boys and girls,
Twist in the mist in fantastic whirls.
Up the gorge whispering glide the long boats,
Led by the Norseman who exultingly gloats,
Thinking of homesteads and beautiful throats.
But faces far older than Viking or Celt
Gleam from the thicket where Druid has knelt.
Knowing all ages in moonshine can melt.