Charles Baudelaire

(9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867 / Paris)

The End Of The Day - Poem by Charles Baudelaire

In all its raucous impudence
Life writhes, cavorts in pallid light,
With little cause or consequence;
And when, with darkling skies, the night

Casts over all its sensuous balm,
Quells hunger's pangs and, in like wise,
Quells shame beneath its pall of calm,
"Aha, at last!" the Poet sighs.

"My mind, my bones, yearn, clamoring
For sweet repose unburdening.
Heart full of dire, funeral thought,

I will lie out; your folds will cling
About me: veils of shadow wrought,
O darkness, cool and comforting!"


Comments about The End Of The Day by Charles Baudelaire

  • (3/24/2006 6:34:00 PM)


    I wish we could have had lunch... (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: funeral, light, night, heart, life, sky



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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