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   Chapter 5 No.5

Baudelaire: His Prose and Poetry By Charles Baudelaire Characters: 490

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:04


It is enough; the end and the beginning

Are one thing to thee, who are past the end.

O hand unclasped of unbeholden friend,

For thee no fruits to pluck, no palms for winning,

No triumph and no labor and no lust,

Only dead yew-leav

es and a little dust.

O quiet eyes wherein the light saith nought,

Whereto the day is dumb, nor any night

With obscure finger silences your sight,

Nor in your speech the sudden soul speaks thought,

Sleep, and have sleep for light.

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