I Know A Pool, Whose Crystalline Repose Sleeps Under Walls Of Granite, Whence The Pine Leans Looking At Its Image, Line For Line Repeated With The Sumach And Wild-Rose That Redden On The Rocks; Where, At Day'S Close, The Sunset Dreams, And Lights Incarnadine Dark Waters And The Place Seems Brimmed With Wine, A Giant Cup That Splendour Overflows. Night, In Her Livery Of Stars And Moon, Stoops To Its Mirror, Gazing Steadily; And, Saddened By Her Beauty, Drops One Tear, A Falling Star; While Round It Sighs The Rune Of Winds, Conspirators That Sweep From Sea, Whispering Of Things That Fill The Heart With Fear.