Best Famous Paul Verlaine Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Paul Verlaine poems. This is a select list of the best famous Paul Verlaine poetry by classical and contemporary poets. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Paul Verlaine poetry is a great pasttime. These top poems are the best examples of Paul Verlaine poems written by famous poets
Search for the best famous Paul Verlaine poems, articles about Paul Verlaine poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Paul Verlaine poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
See also:
Best Member Poems
Go Back
The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)
High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness.
Also, at times a jealous insect's dart
Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white
Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight
Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart.
Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling,
The women who hung dreaming on our arms
Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms
That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.
|
Melancholy
I am the Empire in the last of its decline,
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,--the while
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile
Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine.
Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign
The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,-
Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire!
Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, has done laughing, pray?
Ah, all is drunk,--all eaten! Nothing more to say!
Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire;
Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one;
Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!
|
Autumn Song
With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and montonous
sound.
Choking and pale
When i mind the tale
the hours keep,
my memory strays
down other days
and I weep;
and I let me go
where ill winds blow
now here, now there,
harried and sped,
even as a dead
leaf, anywhere.
|
|
|