Page:Poems and Baudelaire Flowers.djvu/43

Rh Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all
 * Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath,
 * And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth

There rose old sorrows in a stream of gall.

O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh,
 * Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those
 * Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows,

Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.

The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud;
 * Henceforth for me all things that came to pass
 * Were blood and darkness,—round my heart, alas!

There clung that allegory, like a shroud.

Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust
 * Found I on Venus island desolate
 * Ah, God! the courage and strength to contemplate

My body and my heart without disgust!