Page:Poems and Baudelaire Flowers.djvu/33

Rh ::::Crumbling into dust;
 * Strong arm and lofty brow
 * Which made the nations bow,
 * Wrapt in eternal gloom
 * Crumble into dust;
 * Yea, face and breasts and womb
 * Which moved men’s love and lust,
 * Alike within the tomb
 * Fall to a little dust.

O solitary hearts that no pain sears, I give you gifts of grief through all my years; O poor transformèd eyes that may not weep,
 * I bring you many tears;

O void dark brains laid in ignoble rest,
 * Though ye be buried deep,

Your unborn thoughts in me made manifest
 * Throng to you where ye sleep.