With riot of brooks on the mountain side,
The goblin maidens of the hills
Went forth to the revel-call of the rills.
Many as leaves of the falling year,
To the swing of a ballad wild and clear
They held the plain and the uplands high;
And the merry-dancers held the sky.
The Kelpie riders abroad on the sea
Caught sound of that call of eerie glee,