Vol De Folie

Tears which fall upon the shore,
Gild the lily with the gore
Of my heart, which sings of your
Melancholy spite.

Tears which fall upon the waves—
Which your silence darkly saves—
Hide your facets from the days,
That were filled with light.

Raise my body—necromancy—
To live again, with every fancy;
(When sprits spoke of geomancy)
Hidden from my sight.

Hear me now, ghost hark of flame;
Fear my song sung in the rain:
A solemn chant of bitter pain,
Sung only by the night.

Sung in reverent solicitation,
To fly from darkened deliration.