Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The rainy moon of all the world is weary, / And from its urn a gloomy cold pours down, / Upon the pallid inmates of the mortuary, / And on the neighbouring outskirts of the town.
My wasted cat, in searching for a litter, / Bestirs its mangy paws from post to post; / (A poet's soul that wanders in the gutter, / With the jaded voice of a shiv'ring ghost).