Page:Poems and Baudelaire Flowers.djvu/13

 rapture is over,
 * The passion for pressure is spent,

And, lover by lover,
 * We lie in a languid content;

Still warmed by our flame’s afterglow
 * We speak not, but take

One soft kiss now and then just to show
 * That we still are awake.

In the weak wind the curtain
 * Stirs faintly, the light of the fire

Flickers pale and uncertain
 * Like the last of our sated desire;

Here as our souls sink and fall
 * Into cavernous sleep,

Do you think, as I think, of it all,
 * What we lose, what we keep?

When of all this fierce splendour
 * Of lust are our bodies bereft,

When these limbs strong and tender
 * Have no power or grace in them left,

When we have outlived and outworn
 * The delights of the flesh,

We shall smile at this past—not in scorn— If we keep our hearts fresh.