By Paul Verlaine
Translated by Gertrude Hall
Pictured by Henry McCarter
[Illustration: "Portrait of Paul Verlaine"]
Contents
Clair de Lune
Sur L'Herbe
L'Allee
A la Promenade
Le Faune
Mandoline
L'Amour Par Terre
En Sourdine
Colloque Sentimental
Since Shade Relents, Since 'Tis Indeed the Day
Before Your Light Quite Fail
O'er the Wood's Brow
The Scene Behind the Carriage Windowpanes
The Rosy Hearth, The Lamplight's Narrow Beam
It Shall Be, Then, Upon a Summer's Day
ARIETTES OUBLIEES
It Weeps In My Heart
The Keyboard, Over Which Two Slim Hands Float
O Heavy, Heavy My Despair
The Trees' Reflection in the Misty Stream
PAYSAGES BELGES
Bruxelles
BIRDS IN THE NIGHT
You Were Not Over-patient with Me, Dear
But You Will Own That I was in the Right
And Wherefore Should I Lay My Heartwounds Bare?
Now I Do Not Intend--What Were the Gain?
I See You Still. I Softly Pushed the door
I See You Still. I Softly Dressed in a Summer Dress
Some Moments I'm the Tempest-driven Bark
AQUARELLES
Green
Spleen
Streets
What Sayst Thou, Traveller, Of All Thou Saw'st Afar?
The False Fair Days
Give Ear Unto the Gentle Lay
I've Seen Again the One Child: Verily
"Son, Thou Must Love Me!--See-" My Saviour Said
Hope Shines--As in a Stable a Wisp of Straw
Sleep, Darksome, Deep
The Sky-Blue Smiles Above the Roof
It Is You, It Is You, Poor Better Thoughts
'Tis the Feast of Corn, 'Tis the Feast of Bread
V. JADIS ET NAGUERE
JADIS
Prologue
Langueur
NAGUERE
Prologue
Impression Fausse
Prologue
MELANCHOLIA
Nevermore
Apres Trois Ans
Mon Reve Familier
A Une Femme
PAYSAGES TRISTES
Chanson D'Automne
Le Rossignol
CAPRICES
Il Bacio
Fetes Galantes
[Illustration: "Clair De Lune"]
Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Of being sad in their fantastic trim.
The while they celebrate in minor strain
Triumphant love, effective enterprise,
They have an air of knowing all is vain,--
And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise,
The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,
That makes to dream the birds upon the tree,
And in their polished basins of white stone
The fountains tall to sob with ecstasy.
"The abbe rambles."--"You, marquis,
Have put your wig on all awry."--
"This wine of Cyprus kindles me
Less, my Camargo, than your eye!"
"My passion"--"Do, mi, sol, la, si."--
"Abbe, your villany lies bare."--
"Mesdames, I climb up yonder tree
And fetch a star down, I declare."
"Let each kiss his own lady, then
The others."--"Would that I were, too,
A lap-dog!"--"Softly, gentlemen!"--
"Do, mi."--"The moon!"--"Hey, how d'ye do?"
Powdered and rouged as in the sheepcotes' day,
Fragile 'mid her enormous ribbon bows,
Along the shaded alley, where green grows
The moss on the old seats, she wends her way
With mincing graces and affected airs,
Such as more oft a petted parrot wears.
Her long gown with the train is blue; the fan
She spreads between her jewelled fingers slim
Is merry with a love-scene, of so dim
Suggestion, her eyes smile the while they scan.
Blonde; dainty nose; plump, cherry lips, divine
With pride unconscious.--Subtler, certainly,
Than is the mouche there set to underline
The rather foolish brightness of the eye.