Page:Poems of Baudelaire Sturm.djvu/112

Rh

do I care though you be wise?
 * Be sad, be beautiful; your tears

But add one more charm to your eyes, As streams to valleys where they rise;
 * And fairer every flower appears

After the storm. I love you most
 * When joy has fled your brow downcast;

When your heart is in horror lost, And o'er your present like a ghost
 * Floats the dark shadow of the past.

I love you when the teardrop flows,
 * Hot as blood, from your large eye;

When I would hush you to repose Your heavy pain breaks forth and grows
 * Into a loud and tortured cry.

And then, voluptuousness divine!
 * Delicious ritual and profound!

I drink in every sob like wine, And dream that in your deep heart shine
 * The pearls wherein your eyes were drowned.