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?
A maiden, watching the moon she loves,
At the twilight hour, with pensive eyes?