BEAUTY

by: Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

      am lovely, O mortals, like a dream of stone,
      And my bosom, where each one gets bruised in turn,
      To inspire the love of a poet is prone,
      Like matter eternally silent and stern.

      As an unfathomed sphinx, enthroned by the Nile,
      My heart a swan's whiteness with granite combines,
      And I hate every movement, displacing the lines,
      And never I weep and never I smile.

      The poets in front of mine attitudes fine
      (Which the proudest of monuments seem to implant),
      To studies profound all their moments assign,

      For I have all these docile swains to enchant—
      Two mirrors, which Beauty in all things ignite:
      Mine eyes, my large eyes, of eternal Light!

"Beauty" is reprinted from The Flowers of Evil. Charles Baudelaire. London: Elkin Mathews, 1909.

MORE POEMS BY CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

RELATED LINKS

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com