Explore "The Sick Muse" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Poor Muse, alas, what ails thee, then, to-day? / Thy hollow eyes with midnight visions burn, / Upon thy brow in alternation play, / Folly and Horror, cold and taciturn.
Have the green lemure and the goblin red, / Poured on thee love and terror from their urn? / Or with despotic hand the nightmare dread / Deep plunged thee in some fabulous Minturne?
Would that thy breast where so deep thoughts arise, / Breathed forth a healthful perfume with thy sighs; / Would that thy Christian blood ran wave by wave
In rhythmic sounds the antique numbers gave, / When Phoebus shared his alternating reign / With mighty Pan, lord of the ripening grain.