I am the Empire in the last of its decline,
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,-the while
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile
Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine.
Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign
The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,-
Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire!
Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, hast done laughing, pray?
Ah, all is drunk,-all eaten! Nothing more to say!
Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire;
Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one;
Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!
Langueur [english]
Paul Verlaine
(1)
Poem topics: brave, death, fire, heart, sick, sun, sunshine, war, desire, pray, soul, chance, gold, adventure, shine, verse, beneath, slave, alone, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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