Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How beauteous the sun as it rises supreme, / Like an explosion that greets us from above, / Oh, happy is he that can hail with love, / Its decline, more glorious far, than a dream.
I saw flower, furrow, and brook. I recall / How they swooned like a tremulous heart 'neath the sun, / Let us haste to the sky-line, 'tis late, let us run, / At least to catch one slanting ray ere it fall.