Do Not Console Me
Do not console me. I should not have heard.
If dreams, which were the only wealth I wist,
Leave my dark threshold whereon squats the mist,
I shall be ready, and shall speak no word.
But some day, very simply (do not cheer me),
I shall stretch myself under the azure sky.
They will tell the children not to come too near me,
And, sadness having left me, I shall die.
Comments about this poem (Do Not Console Me by Francis Jammes )
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