And over the round dark edge of the hill
A cold green light was quivering still.
“And the crescent moon, high over the green,
From a sky of crimson shone,
On that icy palace, whose towers were seen
To sparkle as if with stars of their own;
While the water fell, with a hollow sound,
’Twixt the glistening pillars ranged around.
“Is that a being of life, that moves
Where the crystal battlements rise?