Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My childhood was nought but a ravaging storm, / Enlivened at times by a brilliant sun; / The rain and the winds wrought such havoc and harm / That of buds on my plot there remains hardly one.
Behold now the Fall of ideas I have reached, / And the shovel and rake one must therefore resume, / In collecting the turf, inundated and breached, / Where the waters dug trenches as deep as a tomb.