Oh! help me to gather some rare white heather,
Sweet Morning, show me the way!
A trout jumped high with a rainbow shudder,
To see how the mortals look,
Then swayed his tail like a silver rudder,
And swam away in the brook.
I think I heard all the Pixies saying
"No heather that's white you'll find!"
I know I saw little Gnome-folk playing
Where shadowy boughs reclined—