Page:Poems of Baudelaire Sturm.djvu/63

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, oblivious garden of indolence, Pillow of cool flesh where no man dreams of love, Where life flows forth in troubled opulence, As airs in heaven and seas in ocean move. , sombre and fathomless glass, Where lovely angels with calm lips that smile, Heavy with mystery, in the shadow pass, Among the ice and pines that guard some isle.

, sad hospital that a murmuring fills, Where one tall crucifix hangs on the walls, Where every tear-drowned prayer some woe distils, And one cold, wintry ray obliquely falls.

Strong, a vague far place Where mingle Christs with pagan Hercules; Thin phantoms of the great through twilight pace, And tear their shroud with clenched hands void of ease.