the phantoms

All day they played among the purple flowers That lay like frozen flames upon the lawn; Or dreamed within the shadows of the towers Whose turret tops were painted as the dawn. Bright was the garden; peace went everywhere There was no breath of movement nor any sound Save butterflies that clove the heavy air, Or when the bright fruit dropped slowly to the ground. Then the flowers drooped, from sliver thorns that tore; Too soon the sun had died in amber smoke, And frightened now but silent as before The phantoms watched the garden change its cloak. Great sable moths flew out, and one by one The towers melted with the fallen sun.