Do you remember the moon-lit, Ivory gardens we once walked, The secret realms we fashioned, Like gods long forgotten ?
Do you remember the scented, Star-pinioned night, that was ours alone, And the iris-pouring moon, That whispered words arcane ?
We are but spectres in this haggard and marble realm Fading shapes in the moon's uncertain light We are but whispers in the babel of voices, The last echoes of a long-dead world