Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867)

Translated by Arthur Reed Ropes

UNDER wan and hueless light,

Life, that knows not rest nor shame,

Runs or writhes without an aim;

So, when on the verge of sight

Rises the voluptuous Night,

Making even hunger stay,

Hiding even shame away,

Saith the poet, “O delight!

Rest at length for limbs and mind!

With a weary heart that holds

Nought but visions gloomiest,

Now I will lie down to rest,

Wrapped within your curtained folds,

Darkness comforting and kind!”