O I stood by the waterside
And heard the stream run by.
I saw the gnarled trees stand dark
Against the pale gold sky.
And I saw at the grey twilight
In the dusk o' the lone glen
The Trolls, with their earthy faces,
That buy the souls of men.

They have not known man's laughter,
They have not seen sunshine,
They have not heard through the spring wood
The blackbird whistle fine.
They have not heard the sea's song
Nor the wind through the young corn;
They have not looked on the good day
Since the hour that they were born.

All in the dun dusk o' the night
The stream ran noisily;
A weary wind came moaning up
Beside the grey thorn tree.
With their strong kists upon their backs
And faces grey wi' mould,
The Trolls came up out o' the earth
That buy men's souls for gold.