Here the wave of moonlight glosses                                

The dim grey sands with light,                                

Far off by furthest Rosses                                

We foot it all the night,                                

Weaving olden dances,                                

Mingling hands and mingling glances                                

Till the moon has taken flight;                                

To and fro we leap                                

And chase the frothy bubbles,                                

While the world is full of troubles,                                

And is anxious in its sleep.                                

Come away, O human child!                                

To the waters and the wild                                

With a faery, hand in hand,                                

For the world's more full of weeping                                

than you can understand.                                

-- The Stolen Child                

                    William Butler Yeats, 1889