The lilies whisper in the park, <br />Pale watchers in the heavy night, <br />Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. <br /> <br />How pure they are! Their figures stark <br />Stand as if waiting for Death's flight-- <br />The lilies whisper in the park. <br /> <br />Beneath the blue electric arc <br />They crowd in long battalions bright, <br />Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. <br /> <br />I lean and listen, wait and hark; <br />Faint phrases float on pinions light-- <br />The lilies whisper in the park. <br /> <br />The city sleeps. I pause to mark <br />These spirits marshaled for my sight, <br />Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. <br /> <br />Who knows the language of the lark? <br />Who gleans one word from flowers white? <br />The lilies whisper in the park, <br />Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark.<br /><br />Charles Hanson Towne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/villanelle-7/
