Explore "Mist and Rain" by Charles Pierre Baudelaire on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Autumns and winters, springs of mire and rain, / Seasons of sleep, I sing your praises loud, / For thus I love to wrap my heart and brain / In some dim tomb beneath a vapoury shroud
In the wide plain where revels the cold wind, / Through long nights when the weathercock whirls round, / More free than in warm summer day my mind / Lifts wide her raven pinions from the ground.
Unto a heart filled with funereal things / That since old days hoar frosts have gathered on, / Naught is more sweet, O pallid, queenly springs,
Than the long pageant of your shadows wan, / Unless it be on moonless eves to weep / On some chance bed and rock our griefs to sleep.