Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You are a roseate autumn-sky, that glows! / Yet sadness rises in me like the flood, / And leaves in ebbing on my lips morose, / The poignant memory of its bitter mind.
In vain your hands my swooning breast embrace, / Oh, friend! alone remains the plundered spot, / Where woman's biting grip has left its trace: / My heart, the beasts devoured -- seek it not!