They rest,—for the goblin maids are strong.
The sun goes round; and Bareau Fen
Is a door of earth on the Kelpie men,—
Buried at dawn, asleep, unslain,
With not a mound on the sunny plain,
Hard by the walls of calm Rochelle,
Row on row by the crystal well.
And never again they are free to ride
Through all the years on the tossing tide,
Barred from the breast of the barren foam,