THE REMORSE OF THE DEAD

by: Charles Baudelaire

SHADOWY Beauty mine, when thou shalt sleep

In the deep heart of a black marble tomb;

When thou for mansion and for bower shalt keep

Only one rainy cave of hollow gloom;

 

And when the stone upon thy trembling breast,

And on thy straight sweet body's supple grace,

Crushes thy will and keeps thy heart at rest,

And holds those feet from their adventurous race;

 

Then the deep grave, who shares my reverie,

(For the deep grave is aye the poet's friend)

During long nights when sleep is far from thee,

 

Shall whisper: "Ah, thou didst not comprehend

The dead wept thus, thou woman frail and weak"--

And like remorse the worm shall gnaw thy cheek.

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