A little old woman
	In a thin white shawl
Stepped straight through the column
	Of the silver waterfall,
As if the fall of water
	Were not anything at all.
I saw her crook her finger,
	I heard her sweetly call.
Over stones all green and glossy
	I fled and did not fall;
I ran along the river
	And through the waterfall,
And that heavy curve of water
	Never hindered me at all.
The little old woman
	In the thin white shawl
Took my hand and laughed and led me
	Down a cool, still hall,
Between two rows of pillars
	That were glistening and tall.
At her fingers tap swung open
	A wide door in the wall,
And I saw the crystal city
	That's behind the waterfall.