The Fountain

On in 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
     And on the marble rim
  The milk-white peacocks slept,
     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.