Through veils of mist she glides unseen,

A phantom wrought in silver sheen,

Beneath the argent wane’s embrace,

Where shadows dance in soft disgrace.

Her sable wings, on midnight borne,

Trail whispers lost to realms forlorn,

A hush upon the weeping air,

A sigh of longing, frail, and rare.

The pallid stars bow dim and low,

Enthralled by whispers soft as snow,

While spectral winds in hush confess

Their secrets to her dark caress.

What sorrow lingers in her flight?

What dreams dissolve in dying light?

A fleeting wraith, a nameless tune,

A lament lost beneath the moon.

The pallid stars bow dim and low,

Enthralled by whispers soft as snow,

While spectral winds in hush confess

Their secrets to her dark caress.

What sorrow lingers in her flight?

What dreams dissolve in dying light?

A fleeting wraith, a nameless tune,

A lament lost beneath the moon.