The White People
Out of the grass when the dew is wet
Their houses lean and their hoards are set
Deep in the woods that are not yet.
Out of the earth when the night is cold
Their worm-dogs lean and over the wold
They fly with tales that are not told.
Out of the wold when the moon rides low
Their witch-fires flicker, and tapers glow
To guide the goblins to and fro.
Out of the lake when the comets pass
Their maidens rise; and over the grass
They crawl like shadows on a glass.
Out of the East when the stars spin high
They dance and dance and the years go by
And the sun and moon fade out of the sky
And still they dance.