Up from the bronze, I saw 
Water without a flaw 
Rush to its rest in air, 
Reach to its rest, and fall. 

Bronze of the blackest shade, 
An element man-made, 
Shaping upright the bare 
Clear gouts of water in air. 

0, as with arm and hammer, 
Still it is good to strive 
To beat out the image whole, 
To echo the shout and stammer 
When full-gushed waters, alive, 
Strike on the fountain's bowl 
After the air of summer.