Explore "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
To-night the Moon dreams with increased weariness, / Like a beauty stretched forth on a downy heap / Of rugs, while her languorous fingers caress / The contour of her breasts, before falling to sleep.
On the satin back of the avalanche soft, / She falls into lingering swoons, as she dies, / While she lifteth her eyes to white visions aloft, / Which like efflorescence float up to the skies.