With bright, polished pebbles,
With white, glittering pebbles,
Our love-gift to you."
The singing now was in the very garden, but I could not see the singers, though I knew that they were there, for the strange creature-image whirled about the court, laughing and nodding on every side, while the music grew each moment louder and wilder, when suddenly all was still, and the image pausing in the middle of the court began with many odd gestures this weird song:
"What am I? Who am I? Where did I come from?
What, who and where—well, no human knows;
Ye though my loved ones know what to answer,
My pale face ye follow wherever it goes.
My home's in the forest, my home's in the city,
Wherever the terror of loneliness lies,