All through the deep blue night The fountain sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart Of the satyr carved in stone.
The fountain sang and sang, But the satyr never stirred-- Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard.
The fountain sang and sang While on the marble rim The milk-white peacocks slept, And their dreams were strange and dim.
Bright dew was on the grass, And on the ilex, dew, The dreamy milk-white birds Were all a-glisten, too.
The fountain sang and sang The things one cannot tell;
The dreaming peacocks stirred And the gleaming dew-drops fell.
