Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Be wise, O my Woe, seek thy grievance to drown, / Thou didst call for the night, and behold it is here, / An atmosphere sombre, envelopes the town, / To some bringing peace and to others a care.
Whilst the manifold souls of the vile multitude, / 'Neath the lash of enjoyment, that merciless sway, / Go plucking remorse from the menial brood, / From them far, O my grief, hold my hand, come this way.