Villanelle

The lilies whisper in the park, Pale watchers in the heavy night, Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. How pure they are! Their figures stark Stand as if waiting for Death's flight-- The lilies whisper in the park. Beneath the blue electric arc They crowd in long battalions bright, Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. I lean and listen, wait and hark; Faint phrases float on pinions light-- The lilies whisper in the park. The city sleeps. I pause to mark These spirits marshaled for my sight, Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. Who knows the language of the lark? Who gleans one word from flowers white? The lilies whisper in the park, Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark.