When I had pushed the narrow garden-door,
Once more I stood within the green retreat;
Softly the morning sunshine lighted it,
And every flow'r a humid spangle wore.
Nothing is changed. I see it all once more:
The vine-clad arbor with its rustic seat. . . .
The waterjet still plashes silver sweet,
The ancient aspen rustles as of yore.
The roses throb as in a bygone day,
As they were wont, the tall proud lilies sway.
Each bird that lights and twitters is a friend.
I even found the Flora standing yet,
Whose plaster crumbles at the alley's end,
-Slim, 'mid the foolish scent of mignonette.
Apres Trois Ans [english]
Paul Verlaine
(2)
Poem topics: friend, green, silver, sunshine, bird, sweet, narrow, door, garden, morning, foolish, ancient, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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