On the old oak benches, more shiny and polished than links of a chain that were, each day, burnished rubbed by our human flesh, we, still un-bearded, trailed our ennui, hunched, round-shouldered,...
I've been home a long time among the vast porticos, Which the mariner sun has tinged with a million fires, Whose grandest pillars, upright, majestic and cold...
We will have beds imbued with mildest scent, And couches, deep as tombs, in which to lie, Flowers around us, strange and opulent, Blooming on shelves under the finest skies. ...
Whatever place he goes, on land or sea, under a sky on fire, or a polar sun, servant of Jesus, follower of Cytherea, shadowy beggar, or Croesus the glittering one,
In sinuous coils of the old capitals Where even horror weaves a magic spell, Gripped by my fatal humours, I observe Singular beings with appalling charms. ...
They pass before me, these Eyes full of light, Eyes made magnetic by some angel wise; The holy brothers pass before my sight, And cast their diamond fires in my dim eyes. ...
They march ahead, those brilliant Eyes in you A master Angel doubtless magnetized; They march, those holy twins, my brothers too, Raising a gem-like flame within my eyes. ...
When I watch you go by, in all your indolence, To sound of instruments within the echoing hall Suspending your appeal of lingering harmony, And showing in your glance the ennui of your soul; ...
What is a thyrsus? According to the moral and poetical sense, it is a sacerdotal emblem in the hand of the priests or priestesses celebrating the divinity of whom they are the interpreters and servants. But physically it is no ...
In a perfumed land caressed by the sun I found, beneath the trees' crimson canopy, palms from which languor pours on one's eyes, the veiled charms of a Creole lady.
What will you say tonight, poor lonely soul, What will you say old withered heart of mine, To the most beautiful, the best, most dear, Whose heavenly regard brings back your bloom? ...