 Tip‑toe aerial gliding
         Shadow‑lunar blent,
 Bending, mingling, hiding,
         To and fro they wen
 Left and right, belonging
         To no place, they swaye
 A low pipe, like longing,
         To their dancing playe
 There, in the silence dropped
         Like a thing on the ground,
 Whirled they awhile, then stopped,
         Then renewed their round,