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She sat still upon a stone,
and gazed across the grey cascade
of water falling from the heights.
She sipped hot cider from a cup,
and ate an apple and some cheese.
Her black hair swayed with mist drenched wind.
Other than that she did not move,
sitting so silent and so still
before the rushing water falls.
And dancing on the water's rim,
perched between mist and steady flow,
I caught a sudden glimpse of him,
the spirit of the mountain side,
who held her soul in elfish love.
I thought to shoot him with my bow,
but fate or chance held back my shot.
He laughed, and jumped upon the stone,
and took her hand, and pulled her in
to stand with him in mist and damp
above the rushing water falls.
Then, suddenly, they disappeared
to some far place where spirits go.
And I was left on shore alone,
standing beside the water falls.
