Charles Baudelaire Short Poems

Famous Short Charles Baudelaire Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Charles Baudelaire. A collection of the all-time best Charles Baudelaire short poems

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The Owls  

 UNDER 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.

Beauty  

 I HAVE seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills 
Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain: 
I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils, 
Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain. 

I have heard the song of the blossoms and the old chant of the sea, 
And seen strange lands from under the arched white sails of ships; 
But the loveliest thing of beauty God ever has shown to me, 
Are her voice, and her hair, and eyes, and the dear red curve of her lips.

The Ghost  

 Peace in thy hands, 
Peace in thine eyes, 
Peace on thy brow; 
Flower of a moment in the eternal hour, 
Peace with me now. 

Not a wave breaks, 
Not a bird calls, 
My heart, like a sea, 
Silent after a storm that hath died, 
Sleeps within me. 

All the night's dews, 
All the world's leaves, 
All winter's snow 
Seem with their quiet to have stilled in life's dream 
All sorrowing now.

Beauty  

 Say not of beauty she is good, 
Or aught but beautiful, 
Or sleek to doves' wings of the wood 
Her wild wings of a gull.

Call her not wicked; that word's touch 
Consumes her like a curse; 
But love her not too much, too much, 
For that is even worse.

O, she is neither good nor bad, 
But innocent and wild! 
Enshrine her and she dies, who had 
The hard heart of a child.

Bien Loin Dici  

 HERE is the chamber consecrate, 
Wherein this maiden delicate, 
And enigmatically sedate, 

Fans herself while the moments creep, 
Upon her cushions half-asleep, 
And hears the fountains plash and weep. 

Dorothy's chamber undefiled. 
The winds and waters sing afar 
Their song of sighing strange and wild 
To lull to sleep the petted child. 

From head to foot with subtle care, 
Slaves have perfumed her delicate skin 
With odorous oils and benzoin. 
And flowers faint in a corner there.

Music  

 Take me by the hand;
it's so easy for you, Angel,
for you are the road
even while being immobile.

You see, I'm scared no one
here will look for me again;
I couldn't make use of
whatever was given,

so they abandoned me.
At first the solitude
charmed me like a prelude,
but so much music wounded me.

The Ghost  

 SOFTLY as brown-eyed Angels rove 
I will return to thy alcove, 
And glide upon the night to thee, 
Treading the shadows silently. 

And I will give to thee, my own, 
Kisses as icy as the moon, 
And the caresses of a snake 
Cold gliding in the thorny brake. 

And when returns the livid morn 
Thou shalt find all my place forlorn 
And chilly, till the falling night. 

Others would rule by tenderness 
Over thy life and youthfulness, 
But I would conquer thee by fright!

Music  

 MUSIC doth uplift me like a sea 
Towards my planet pale, 
Then through dark fogs or heaven's infinity 
I lift my wandering sail. 

With breast advanced, drinking the winds that flee, 
And through the cordage wail, 
I mount the hurrying waves night hides from me 
Beneath her sombre veil. 

I feel the tremblings of all passions known 
To ships before the breeze; 
Cradled by gentle winds, or tempest-blown 

I pass the abysmal seas 
That are, when calm, the mirror level and fair 
Of my despair!