by: Charles Baudelaire
the overhanging yews,
- The dark owls sit in solemn state,
- Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
- Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.
- Motionless thus they sit and dream
- Until that melancholy hour
- When, with the sun's last fading gleam,
- The nightly shades assume their power.
- From their still attitude the wise
- Will learn with terror to despise
- All tumult, movement, and unrest;
- For he who follows every shade,
- Carries the memory in his breast,
- Of each unhappy journey made.
MORE POEMS BY CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
'The Owls' is reprinted from The
Poems and Prose Poems of Charles Baudelaire. Ed. James Huneker.
New York: Brentano's, 1919.