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.