Page:Poems and Baudelaire Flowers.djvu/24

20  For your brow is lineless
 * But your heart is old,

And the wind is rising
 * Fast, and growing cold,

And in the crowded rooms
 * Swells the merry din.

Clasp your cloak’s neck, come,
 * Let us go within.

say the meadow-grass is green,
 * You say the heavens are blue,

The birds sing free on every tree;
 * All this is very true,
 * No doubt—
 * But what of me and you?

But what of you and me? Ah, yes—
 * “About an even chance!”

Methinks, dear soul, upon the whole
 * God leads us a merry dance.
 * I’ faith,
 * God leads us a merry dance.