Can we suppress the old Remorse Who bends our heart beneath his stroke, Who feeds, as worms feed on the corse, Or as the acorn on the oak? Can we suppress the old Remorse? ...
My sweetheart was naked, knowing my desire, she wore only her tinkling jewellery, whose splendour yields her the rich conquering fire of Moorish slave-girls in the days of their beauty. ...
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; ...
As the carriage traversed the wood he bade the driver draw up in the neighbourhood of a shooting gallery, saying that he would like to have a few shots to kill time. Is not the slaying of the monster Time the most ordinary and ...
Twisting and writhing like a snake on fiery sands, Kneading her breast against her corset's metal bands, The woman, meanwhile, from her mouth of strawberry Let flow these fragrant words of musky mystery:...
Oh moon our fathers worshipped, their love discreet, from the blue country's heights where the bright seraglio, the stars in their sweet dress, go treading after you, my ancient Cynthia, lamp of my retreat, ...
Wine can clothe the most sordid hole in miraculous luxury, and let many a fabulous portico float free in the gold of its red glow, like a setting sun in the sky's cloudy sea. ...
The sun is wrapped within a pall of mist, Moon of my life! enshroud yourself like him; Sleep, damp your fires; be silent, dim, And plunge to ennui's most profound abyss; ...
Often, beneath a street lamp's reddish light, Where wind torments the glass and flame by night, Where mankind swarms in stormy turbulence Within a suburb's muddy labyrinth, ...