Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What sayest thou, to-night, poor soul so drear, / What sayest -- heart erewhile engulfed in gloom, / To the very lovely, very chaste, and very dear, / Whose god-like look hath made thee to re-bloom?
To her, with pride we chant an echoing Hymn, / For nought can touch the sweetness of her sway; / Her flesh ethereal as the seraphim, / Her eyes with robe of light our souls array.