People of the Mist-Land.

Would you like to follow

for an evening walk

to a meadow nearby

where the mist is creeping,

white and thick it’s drifting,

inside shapes are moving,

glittering like silver!

Do you see them dancing?

People of the Mist-Land,

beautiful in motion,

floating like the silvery waves

of some strange ocean.

Gleaming eyes of grey

smile as if they say:

Wom’t you come and join our play?

But don’t go to close

although they insist.

The moment they touch

you’ll turn into mist.