Paul Verlaine Poems

In the deserted park, silent and vast,
Erewhile two shadowy glimmering figures passed.
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To you these lines for the consoling grace
Of your great eyes wherein a soft dream shines,
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It weeps in my heart
As it rains on the town.
What is this dull smart
Possessing my heart?
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Oh, heavy, heavy my despair,
Because, because of One so fair.
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Hills and fences hurry by
Blent in greenish-rosy flight,
And the yellow carriage-light
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The roses were so red, so red,
The ivies altogether black.
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The keyboard, over which two slim hands float,
Shines vaguely in the twilight pink and gray,
Whilst with a sound like wings, note after note
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Sleep, darksome, deep,
Doth on me fall:
Vain hopes all, sleep,
Sleep, yearnings all!
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The trees' reflection in the misty stream
Dies off in livid steam;
Whilst up among the actual boughs, forlorn,
The tender wood-doves mourn.
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I've seen again the One child: verily,
I felt the last wound open in my breast,
The last, whose perfect torture doth attest
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