"The Fountain

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."

--Sara T*asdal*, Stars To-night (1930)