There is a pool on Garda,
— 'Tis fashioned by the moon
That climbs above the mountain's crest
— What time the night birds croon;
The pool is paved with silver
— Inwrought with burnished gold,
And in its deeps a treasure sleeps
— The goblins stored of old.

There is a pool on Garda,
— It will elude you still
Ply you the oar from shore to shore
— With howe'er strong a will;
'Twill flee you like a phantom,
— 'Twill lead you on and on;
A luring light, 'twill fade from sight
— What time the moon is gone.

There is a pool on Garda,
— You'll see it in your dreams;
'Tis shaped of silvery glamor,
— 'Tis fused of golden beams.
Once you have caught the vision,
— The fair elusive ray,
Twill haunt your brain like some sweet strain
— Forever and a day!