Clair de Lune by Claude Houghton

Pallid ghosts and phantoms frail,
Fancies born of vague regrets,
‘Neath a moon divinely pale
Whisper words the dawn forgets;
Ghosts of pain and ghosts of pleasure
Glide in graceful rhythmic measure.

Vanished days and dead desires,
Perished hopes and faded dreams,
To the magic sound of lyres
Glide amid the moon’s gray beams;
Glide and beckon, whisper lightly,
Vanish slowly, glimmering whitely.