Explore "A Last Wish" by Théophile Gautier on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How long my soul has loved thee, love! / It is full many a year agone. / Thy spring -- what charm of flowers thereof, / My winter -- what wild snows thereon!
White lilacs from the land of graves / Blow near my temples. Soon enow / Thou'lt mark the pallid mass that waves / Enshadowing my withered brow.
My westering sun must speedy drop, / And disappear behind the road. / Already on the dim hill-top, / There gleams and waits my last abode.
Then from thy rosy lips let fall / Upon my lips a tardy kiss, / That in my tomb, when comes the call, / My heart may rest, remembering this.