The moon like a big, round ball of flame
Rose out of the silver bay.
And built a bridge of golden beams,
Where the fairies came to play.
I saw them dancing in jeweled robes,
On the wavelet's rhythmic flow,
And I longed to stand on the magic bridge,
In the moonlight's mystic glow.

But, over the sky a veil of mist
Thin, soft as a web of lace,
Was drawn, then parted, then came again,
With easy, coquettish grace;
And the moon put on a sober mask,
And frowned on the rippling wave,
And the beautiful bridge went under the sea,
Not a beam could the fairies save!

I wondered if this would end their play,
And if, as the bridge went down,
They would lose their jewels so frail and fair,
And their queen her diamond crown!
But they glided away in merry mood,
To their home in the rose-tree's bowers,
And finished their dance on the dewy grass,
In the “wee sma" morning hours.