Paul Verlaine PO EMS SATURNIN E to Eu Géne Carn Ere MELANCHOLIA R I

éy BERGENAPPHE GATE

FLETCH ER SEYMO UR TH E ALDERBRINK PRESS Co pyr igh t 1 9 1 6 BY RALP H FLETCHER SEY MOUR T TH E MEM R O O Y OF O NE LO NG SI NCE ASLEEP ’ WH O LI VI NG LOVED TH E P Er' s S N S O O G

JUDGE JO NATH AN C. A P PLEGATE TH I S BOO K I S DEDI CATED WI TH LOVE AND REVERENCE

BY H I S SON

CO NTENTS

Paul Verlaine PO EMS SATURNIN E To Eu géne Carn ere MELANCHOLIA R I . ESIGNATION N V O II . E ERM RE AFT R T YEA III . E HREE RS . w IV. Vo S V. LAS ITUDE MY RD M VI . FAMILIA REA To VII . A WOMAN ETCH I NGS P K I . ARISIAN S ETCH III .

EFF F N H . IV. ECTS O IG T V . GROTES! UES SOM BER LANDSCAPES N I . SETTI G SUNS W F Y E E II . T ILIGHT O M STIC V N D N EN III . PROME A E SE TIM TAL

. VA L P URGI S NI T I IV GH , CLASS C A N N V . UTUM SO G ’ T H VI . E SHEP HERD S HOUR TH E N N VI I . IGHTI GALE CAPRICES I . WOMAN AND CAT ’ N III . SO G OF THE I NGENUES O V . M NSIEUR PRUDHOMME SUB URBE SERENADE A DAHLIA NEVERMORE IL BACIO ( The IN THE WOODS BI ARCO

FETES GALLANT MOON LIGHT PANTOMIME O N THE GRASS T H E WALK IN THE GROTTO T H E INGENUS CORTEGE TH E SHELLS S KATIN G FANTASTICS AFLOAT TH E FAUN MANDO LIN E To CLY MENE L ETTER . INDO LEN TS COLUM BINE TH E FALLEN CU PID SOURDINE COLLO! UY SENTIM ENTAL TH E GOOD SONG

The m o su n m a a m an d olden to o rning kes w r g , All grace an d all ligh t In her ruche- bo rdered dress o f green and gr ay Since d awn awo ke an d sunrise now is here o t o t a t ﬂ t ale Bef re h u kes igh , p The whi te m o o n PAGE The landscape fro m the curtained W indo w square A saint in her bright h al o H t arm a t am a l an d t er righ , in ges ure i b e swee t lo a t o co m an d o Fif een ng d ys e, six weeks g ne This h ard pro o f so o n will h ave an end G O o o n W - l o , s ng, ings wind b wn A t a t tal o u r l s yes erd y hey ked , e ders wise ’ The ﬁ reside an d the lam pligh t s level ray Al m o t a t t be a s , I fe r , if ru h s id o o f the t a an d the lac m u d The n ise verns , b k o f the Sidewalks Is it n o t so ? Despite wh at o thers say These sto rm y t im es serve t o rem ind So it S all be a da o f m m a , h y su er , de r I went by p aths Where danger hides Winter has go ne : the b alm y l ight indeed ROMANCE S WITHOUT WORDS FORGOTTEN AIRS

h ; I . This is t e languo ro us ecs tasy

. a l ac o a m m a II I v gue y guess , r ss ur ur dr wn I t m III . weeps in y heart

. i a o . a a i o t an d a l V The p n , kissed by h rd s f fr i o l th VI . Beh d e do g o f Jean Nivelle I I H o sad— h V, . w ow sad m y heart to d ay the t m VIII . In in er inable

I ! . a o o f t the a o o t am The sh d w rees in v p r us s re , fo g- kissed B ELGIAN LAN DSCAPES WALCOURT CHARLEROI S m l co n II a d . R . B USSELS ( i p e Fres s , I ) HORSES O F WOOD MALINES WATER COLORS GREEN PAGE

WISDOM

al a a t at o all da m a VII . The f se f ir d ys h sh wn y , y we ry so ul ho i I ! . W o m o f Lo u Rac w t isd is ine , I envy ’ No a all c a — a t— t c tu ! . ! Tw s G i i n J nsenis his en ry

l . O m G o d t o as t o u m e t o I y , h u h w nded wi h ve

Hop e shines as do th a wisp o f s t raw in the stable ee a calm o a am co m S , rph n , I e A great weariness The Sky is just beyo nd the ro o f I kno w n o t why he so und o f a h o rn so bs to ward the wo o d T — O u r bo dies how they m ake m y heart exp and Lo ng ro ws o f hedges stretch away The sea is fairer O F O LD AND RECENTLY O LD PROLOGUE PI ERRO T KALEI DOSCOP E INTERIOR ART O F PO ETRY T H E CLO WN ALLEGO RY T H E I N N CI RC UMSPECTIO N VERSES TO BE SLANDERED PAGE

II . LANGUOR L N C P IV . A DS A E TH E P AND VI . OET THE M USE A E VIII . ROGU I! . MADRIGAL RECENTLY PROLOGUE

BALLAD PARSIFAL EVENING TH O UGHT LUCIEN LETI NO I S 0 o m a t —calm m III . w n ! pruden , wise ene y l o ol a t a a m a a fo r o . M V . I h ve ni ve y f ish he r is weak Do t t o call in a a a o l XVIII . es h u re p r dise, de r s u

PARALLELLY DEDICATION

TH E FRIENDS O N Y I . THE BALCON P P VI . SA HO HARLOTS T R KI I . o THE PRINCESS O U NE N III . CASTA PIA A REFERENCES S P II . FAL E IM RESSION E III . OTH RS B IV. REVERSI LES T N ! V . A TALI ED

. P OB B BUTTR VI IM R A LE , UE TH E VI I . LAST TEN PAGE MOONS

. t at m a ll o u 0 t m t at l a I I wish , h I y ki y , i e h ys m e was te AF TH E N II . TER MANNER O F PAUL VERLAI E

TH E LAST FETE GAL LAN T POEM SATURNINE TH E IMP UDEN T TH E IMP ENITEN T BALLAD O F TH E LIFE IN RED HANDS PI ERROT GAMI N

HAPPINESS

very O ld already So “ ” ho ! . a tast c c a c t at c m e t t F n i h n e h wre ked , wi u sense o r rhym e Y o u ask o f m e o m o n m o XXV . s e verses A ur m m at l a t the m t o Sal tar XXXI . I edi e y f er su p u us u is SONGS FO R H ER

Co m a o a o and oo II . p ni n , s v ry g d tt o r lo XIII . Brune e, b nde Y o u t ru s t the signs O f the co ffee gro unds ’ had n o l c t o m XXIII . I ve u k wi h w enkind O c was m t c bu t i t co l no t la t XXV . n e I ys i , u d s ODES I N H ER H ONOR

W ac ll V . hen pe efu y Th t ll m e t o u are t XIX . ey e , Swee , y un rue BIBLI OGRAPHY NOTES LI ST O F

P aul Verlaine

The Prom en a de The Walk F a nt a st i c s

are from

PAUL VERLAINE

TH E MAN

06ANDERING from lupanar to lupanar , and from

- - wine shop to wine shop , he seem s to have stag ere d — n g out of the ages of Petronius some vague , 1 deﬁn ite iia f — creature , l beast and half man a veritable — satyr and who , in the glitter of modern Paris , fared as f a ito s tu u ly as in a fable . O ld Indeed, well might he be likened to the mythical Eum o lu s th e S p , drunken brawling p oet of the atyricon , so reappearing after many centuri es , with a fresh stock “ of mock-heroic verses and amplifying in some dingy é hi s a ca f of the Quartier Latin , tale of the Ephesi n

matron . His li fe from early youth appears to have followed the course of a Rake s Progress , as thou h , durin ’ H o arth s m o deE adolescence , he had chosen g hero or And to what depths this rimrose path ﬁnally led him ’ p ’ ’ - to a felon s cell , an ex1le s garret , and the pauper s O f bed death . Let us look at this singular genius in one of his e I . ca f . 8 n favorite haunts It is the year 93 A baseme t , Pla St t b ce . Michel , Paris . The ai r is fetid wi h to acco

sm o d h . oke , mixed with the pungent , acrid or of absint e ’ S a h It is two O clock in the morning . ome Parisi n nig t b ds s o u teneurs ller dc o i e and the v e i r , , ﬁ j , like , ha

drop p e d in to moisten thei r gullet s and l oo k for p rey . At a tabl e in the center of the roo m a group o f yo u ng [ 3 ]

PAUL VERLAINE

TH E MAN

06ANDERING from lupanar to lupanar , and from

- - wine shop to wine shop , he seems to have stag ered o u t o f o — 1n g the ages f Petronius some vague , deﬁn it e lialf — creature , beast and half man a veritable — satyr and who , in the glitter of modern Paris , fared fat ito as u u sly as in a fable . O ld Indeed , well might he be likened to the mythical Eum o lu s o f S p , the drunken brawling p oet the atyricon , so centu r1e s reappearing after many , with a fresh stock of mock-heroic verses and ampli fying in some dingy é L caf of the Quartier atin , his tale of the Ephesi an

matron . His li fe from early youth appears to have followed the course of a Rake s Progress , as though , during ’ h o H o r f . adolescence , he had chosen ga t s hero r model And to what depths this primrose path ﬁnally led him — ’ ’ ’ to a felon s cell , an exile s garret, and the pauper s o f bed death . Let us look at this singular genius in one of his é i I 8 . favorite haunts . It s the year 93 A basement caf , S t . . Place Michel , Pari s The ai r i s feti d with tobacco

smoke , mixed with the pungent, acri d Odor of absinthe . ’ o S It is tw O clock in the morning . ome Parisian night s o u te ne urs ller de o i e birds , , ﬁ j , and the like , have

dropped in to moisten their gullets and look for prey . At a table in the center of the room a group of young [ 3 ] 4 Paul Verlai ne men are Sipping ba ck s and p e ti ts v erres and listening to the r a b elai si e n ej aculations of a drunken man who - ﬁ e a O ld t looks to be sixty v ye rs but who , in reali y, i s V — not yet ﬁfty. The drunkard is erlaine the listeners

- some of his sel f styled disciples . But the master ? “ ” “ a o f A f ce , to use the words Jules Huret , like that o l o f a wicked angel grown d, with a thin untrimmed a be rd and abrupt nose ; his bushy , bristling eyebrows m set rese bling bearded wheat , hiding deep green eyes ; m 1ssha en eni his wholly bald and huge long skull , p by g matic bumps - all these give to his physiognomy a con t radi cto ry appearance o f stubborn asceticism and ” t e cyclopean ap e it s. He is dressed in a cheap ill i n ﬁtt 0 . g suit gray, evidently of English make His cane and a greasy hat are lying beside him . His linen , m a i f such it y be called , appears to have been resur — rect ed by a ragpicker a chiﬁ o n ni er of the Quartier and sold to som e ambulatory Hebrew vendor who in o n fo s o turn passed it to Verlaine r a few us.

He i s drinking absinthe . The wan , purplish light shed by the gas j ets from the walls , mingled with the m ore ruddy glow from a large Oil lamp hanging above the group , throws into his ?lass some rays of iridescent splendor . Half curious half questioningly his sunken , glowing eyes peer into the greenish opalescent liquid . The look is th a t of a man not a ltogether cer — tain of his identity the ﬁxed gaze o f a somnambulist taking on a puzzled expression at the mom ent of awakening . Well might he question , for into that ’ a all devil s ch lice he had poured his youth , all his for al a l . tune , his t lent , all hi s happiness , all his li fe The group ha d been discussing literature earlier in o the night , as always . P ets had been dragged by thei r a im a in ar n feet , so to spe k , tossed in y bla kets or bo ur e o is exalted beyond the gods . Then t e hated g were driven into the a rena where the were martyred , the individually and in groups , with all ingenuity of a

6 Pa ul Verlai ne

S herard , another English writer , thus describes the “ glimpse he had of Verlaine as follows : My first sight of this great , Simple , beautiful oet and child was in the basement of a café w ere there used to be V singing , and where the poets gathered . erlaine was drunk that night and as usual was dressed in rags . He had a false nose o n his face ( fo r it was carnival time ) and he was piping on a little tin whistle . The spectacle as had the terrible comedy touch o f Aristophanes . It w t raged made grotesque . The man had the hea d and 0 S a S face ocrates , and here we s w ocrates playing the b fl n u o o . Such was the appearance of Paul Verlaine at the O period f his greatest renown . A singular chara cter indeed , but in every respect conformin to the accepted — g idea of a true poet the cicada of life 3 short summer, o r t with no thought for the future care of the presen , piping his haunting melodies on the warm air and fall a uv re ing dead at the roadside before the first frost . P L e lai n /

o T write of Verlaine , the man , one must fi rst call to aid those men o f science whose vocation is that of dealing with pathological subj ects . These savants ex p e ri ence no difﬁculty in placing such a cha racter in the proPer catego ry . E en - o n e v a pseudo scientist , such as Max Nordau , might be permitted t o give expert testimony. Let us examine the prisoner ( or p o et l) o n trial fo r his reputation

The Prosecu tor Dr . Nordau , what in your o f opinion , i s the mental responsibility the subj ect now on tri al P” : ff Mein Herr , Dr . Max Nordau He is su ering — from dementia he i s a paroxysmal dipsomaniac .

Moral insani ty, however , i s not resent . The subj ect ” Im l i i st u s v . sins through i rresistible impulse . e is an p The Man 7

The Prosecutor : Are there any other phases o f ” this m alady ? : Y e s i n Mein Herr , Dr . Max Nordau , morbid t en sifi ed eroticism . The subj ect is what scientific men c lai re i a o f ci r u , s o call a , that is he victim that form f mental disease in which states o f excitement and dep re s Ci rcu sion follow each other in regular succession . lair es are condem ned by the very nature o f their aflli cti o n to be vagabonds and thieves . Verlaine has ” been a v agabond all his life . The Prosecutor : Are there other symptoms o f this mental malady ?” : M ein Herr , Dr . Max Nordau Many . Most of ’ ri m o ir H i s Verlaine s poetry is mere g e . language i s f often that o babes . He can not properly connect an ” a dj ective with a noun to save his life .

o n o f . Further testimony the part the witness , Dr c a re Nordau , eli its the fact that there some poems in ’ l é al ] . Verlaine s r pertoire that are , after , real Kosher

Fo r a ﬁ t . inst nce , there is that little song of only y words h ’ It i s called C a ns o n d A u to m ne . Merely a gust o f Oct ober air sharpened in the gathering shadows o f early twilight and blowing through the scant brown foliage of a forest tree . But the sigh

“ L es sa nglo ts l o ngs D es v i ol o ns ’ D e l a u t o m n e

Blessen t m o n cwur ’ D u ne la ng u e ur

Mo no t o ne .

I S there anything in literature to rival it ? Is it not

- worth m any pages o f so called scientiﬁc writing ? Dr . No rdau confesses : Even i f literally translated there rem a ins something o f the melancholy magic of the lines , which in French are so rhythmical and full of 8 P a ul Verla ine

Bo n n o music . Then there is the poem in L a e Chans n beginning :

“ ’ Av a nt u e tu ne t e n a illes q , and that other world known poem in Rom a nces Sa ns a r o les o f Wl’l l Cll P , the ﬁrst stanza ,

“ I l p leu re da ns m o n cce ur Co m m e il l e a t sur la v ille p . ! u elle es t ce tte lang ue ur ’ " ! ui p e n etre m o n ece ur ?

has wept in SO many, many hearts . Well may Dr . Max pause in his senseless tirade against D écadents to proclaim these poems the faultless pearls among French

1yrics . ’ No rdau s But as to characterization o f Verlaine , all L m had been said , and better, by o broso , from whose “ ” book The Man of G enius Nordau ﬁlched without V a o n e can stint . As to erl ine , not discover a p oet with ’ o a surgeon s scalpel r the chart o f a neurologist . ’ I t i s unnecessary to endeavor to justi fy Verlaine s a faults of character . Indeed , he m kes no effort to ex m cuse hi self . On the contrary, he is continually debas ing himsel f , but the psychological reason is not far to h Mo so c i sm . seek , for it has its origin in a kind of ’ Drink was Verl a ine s besetting si n . This habit he o form ed early in life . Writing f drunkenness in his “ C n essi o ns : ! W a o f , he says This absinthe h t horror , when I think of those days ( his e a rly manhood ) a nd o f ti m e no t so remote I repeat in all shame I shall have later to tell o f many absurditi es ( and worse ) due to the abuse o f this horrible drink ; this a nd m abuse itself, source of folly of cri e , of idiocies m and of sha e . The governments Should suppress this absinthe— and why not ?” The Ma n 9

’ Truly his life was steeped in l herbe sai nte . Duri ng hi s latter days ( save when in some hospital ) he seldom

d . a rew a sober breath The deep melancholy, the s d e n nui languors , the frightful , the stormy scenes with o r fri ends with his numerous mistresses , all these were m due to drink . The estrange ent with his wife , his vagabond wa nderings with Arthur Rimb aud a n d his subsequent im prisonment at Mons were due to the sa m e

cause .

When sober the poet was kindly, tractable and good natured and had the f a culty o f m aking friends who m a m sy p thized with his unfortunate tempera ent . One o f m m L e elleti e r a n the , Ed ond p , a brave d good man ,

who was later to become his biographer , has done much to dispel the evil report that had its rise at the time the wa s poet divorced from his wi fe , and which clung to

him through li fe . W o f o f L riting this in his biography the oet , epel “ l eti er says : A legend grew up around im ; all the more persistent and enduring from the fa ct that Ver m wa s a laine hi self l rgely its author, and dug the grave di sse i o f his o wn reputation . His disciples widely m ” n at e d the gospel o f depravity it a m used him to preach . Elsewhere in this biogr aphy is found this passage him was What decided ( to leave Rethel , where he o n e o f — professor) was , perhaps , his impulses strange , a n m — powerful , d uch misunderstood toward friend a o f t e ship . I have alre dy alluded to the strengt h h attachment he conceived for va rious com rades : o n e o f hi L s Duj ardin cousins , ucien Viotti and Arthur Rim L étin o is o f baud Lucien , another his attachments , a o n m w s the s of a farmer . born at Coulo mes , in the a Ardennes . He was a t ll , pale , slim , awkward youth , with a m el a ncholy a nd sim p le ai r the shepherd in ” Ver a com i c oper a . Upon the death of this youth , “ ” “ L e ell eti er laine , not being able , as writes p , like the Emperor Hadrian to erect a mausoleum in stone to this 1 0 Pa ul Verlai ne

Ardenno i se Am ur Antinous , he constructed o , a lyrical monument apparently indestructible .

It is curious to note that M dlle . Mathilde Maute , ’ ' V a n ce e who 1 8 0 erlaine s ﬁ , in 7 could prattle to her “ ’ J a de m a nd hi e a m a m a c m m e o a l lover , i é r n o nt n av i ’ ’ ' des e n a n ts e t e ll e m a rép o ndu qu e c e tai t u a nd o n f ” baisai t u n ho m m e sur la bo u che fe , would in a w short “ m the ue les se n ti onths calmly announce to world , q ' m e n ts de so n m ari p o ur ce p riv ilégi e ( Rimbaud) des ” ll/I uses se m uai e n t e n u ne affe cti o n tro p “vin e ! Arthur Rim baud was a powerful factor in the down f O V . n o t fall erlaine A rascal , without talent , he led the we ak-willed poet from his hom e in Paris to a vaga

. c m bond li fe in Belgium and England Then , having o let ed p his ruin , he succeeded in landing his erstwhile friend in prison and disappeared from Europe , later to reappea r in the spectacular rOl e o f slave driver and trader in Northern Africa . V erlaine never ceased to regret his wi fe , who was hi m o m 1 8 . f divorced fro him in 74 In s volu e prose , ' ’ Me m o i r es d u n Ve u fo l entitled , he writes of her as “ f : She e ti te— m e m bo n lows was p s all , with a fear of i nt p o ; her toilet was almost simple , coquettish in a way , but very slightly so . I remember her always as dressed o r — a in gray green tender green and somber gray , — because o f the indecisive color o f her hair which ap eared o f p to be a luminous chestnut tint , and of her eyes of which one could hardly deci de or even guess the She color . was good hearted , but truly vindictive and given to irredeemable hatreds . Her hands were little , m wa s and her forehead rather s all , upon which a kiss only to be lightly pressed to pass to other things . The blue ﬂ ower o f the veins about her temples wa s easily — m — swollen by anger not hasty , but pre editated but for causes , which , a fter all , were pardonable . In sum , o f altho u she was a wi fe worthy any man , and h a she tempestuous t times , like the sea , like it could e ” calm and gentle and altogether lovable . The Ma n I I

o f L a Bo nne Cha nso n Such was the heroine , a work which L ep elleti er calls a stanza taken from the eternal S IJo em o f youthful love . ome years after her divorce lVI adam e Verlaine married and became the mother of

m . an interesting fa ily According to Frank Harris , in she 1 1 his Contem porary Portraits , was alive in 9 5 and about to publish her Memoirs . Aside from the period o f his infancy Verlaine was — sober fo r a time . This was an enforced sobriety of two years in j ail . From the prison at Mons also dates what he was pleased to call his religious conversion . There be those who profess to ﬁnd in the volume of “ Sa esse g , begun about this period , the most truly beau ”

o f . G tiful and Christian poems all time ranted , they o f may be Christian , but from another point View Sa ess g e i s the most puerile o f all his works . Verlaine wa s a ro x i incapable , mentally, of attaining , even p p mately, the Christian ideal . Repentant (being sober and in prison ) no doubt he was , but Christian , never . Sa esse o f g , however , serves by way contrast to bring P arall l e into bolder relief the strange , erotic work e m e n t , whose verses appear to have been written alter mately with those of Sag esse . Ve rlai ne I n ti m Apropos to this , Donos in his e writes To o f V e n tra i n the magic lantern the Devil , erlaine to com pose Sag esse i s obsessed with the lubrique vision Of a certain chamber in Paris where his a ffectionate Rim ” o ﬂ ere d o ne baud him night a singular hospitality . “ G d ha s And the poet turns from My o to me said , to compose

’ O cha m bre as-tu arde les s ectres ridi cules , g p , O p lei n de jo ur sale e t de brui ts

Neither in Sag esse nor Pa ralléle m e nt is Verlaine immortal . Paul Verlaine has erroneously been likened to a nu m ber of other writers . On the side of his character he I 2 Pa ul Verla ine

has been compared with Villon and Po e . There are O f m I points rese blance to each . But as a writer he S 1 an un que , and comparison fails . Of northern French cest r e fo r — y , he had a enchant the North for Belgium H a and England . e learned English and re d Shake m speare . He even wrote so e sober , dignified prose t co n articles for certain English magazines , his s yle m o for ing with the solidity and gravity f these reviews . o f During the last years his life , Verlaine furnished m t s much good natured amuse ent fo r o u t P ari . But o f s ff erin these were years miser and u for the oet , reduced to pauperism by hi s di ssip at e di abits an dim a m practic l te perament . In proportion , however , as his a n d m sery illness were augmented , his fame grew . “ i V a I a erl ine S back to the hospital , printed s a news item in the daily press , was the signal for a fresh batch O f a a necdotes concerning his strange c reer . Edgar Saltus writing o f the poet says : After his m ha d discharge fro prison , I the signal honor of meet see S Ana reo n ing him , and I can him now , ocrates and g o n e in , hiccoughing down the laurel lanes , paying with m a enig tic songs the food which young poets provided , distilling a mysterious music from the absinthe Offered at a by them , and presenting l st a spectacle unique in a o f a a literature , th t singer applauded m charity bed and rising from it to becom e o n e o f the glori es o f — Fr a nce thou h no t o f the French Academ y . It wa s G eorge Moore who first brought Verl aine to the notice o f the English public . Moore 5 visit to the oet a n d rel a ted 1n his book Impressions and Opinions p “ m : is illu inating In a dark corner , at the end of a n a rrow p a ss a ge situated at the top o f the l a st flight of

a . e . st i rs , we discovered a door W knocked A voice

saw V . m ade itsel f heard . We entered and erlaine wa s a The terrible forehead , bald and prominent , h lf o covered by a ﬁlthy nightcap , and a night shirt full f the grease of the bed covered his Shoulders ; a stained

1 4 Paul Verlai ne

which the god of Chance has endowed them , and they o fall to chasing the butterﬂies f passion , rather than re s o nsible L giving heed to the more duties of life . ike meteors o u t O f the night 0 Tim e do such personalities o u r appear to astonished vision , and long after their astral bodies have ﬂashed below the horizon do their lights persist . And it is to them we owe so much— the perfect statue , the matchless painting, and the deathless Song . H IS LI FE

a V was L P ul Mari e erlaine born at Metz , orraine , a H s a l a a c 0 1 8 . i Fr n e , M rch 3 , 44 f ther , Nico s Auguste

V ai wa s i n m as - a erl ne , born Belgiu and w forty Six ye rs ’ O ld at the poet s birth . ’ m wa s am Pa s The poet s other born in F poux , ( De a a a m a o é h C l is ) Fr nce . Her maiden na e w s J s p e S D e Sh a -t teph anie hée . e w s thirty wo ye a rs O ld when ’ her son wa s born . Verlaine S fa ther wa s Cap t ain Adju o au - a S m t t M j or , econd Regi ent of Engineers , in the ’ he a i e e o French Arm y . He wa s C v l r of the L gi n d H o n ’ n e ar o f Sa i n Fe rdi na d E and the order of t nd sp ag ne . In the Verl a ines m oved to P a ris a n d bought L e s a property in the suburb , B tignolles , on the old rue Sa L int ouis . Mm e V a a s a . w In religion erl ine devout Catholic , wa s f t m a but her husband indif eren to such tters . Paul wa s a n only child a nd a t a n e a rly ag e wa s sent to a c a nd a priv te s hool , rue Helene , l ter to the Insti tute L a a c Cha t al ndry , bo rding s hool on the rue p , where he rem ained sever al ye a rs . At this Institute pup ils were a at L cé a a I n a prep red by classes the y e Bon p rte . a cl ss o f a fifty pupils , the future poet r nked neither first nor a s c a c m a a l a st . He w espe i lly defi ient in them ti cs but L a G notably good in rhetoric , literature , tin and reek . t his a L a nd a n a li He ook B chelor of etters degree , in p p cation for governm ent position wa s highly re co m m ended by his te a cher . 1 6 Pau l Ve rlai ne

V ’ erlaine s parents intended him for the law , and a fter hi s school days he began the study of this p ro f e ssi o n m , at the same ti e endeavoring to secure a posi G m t tion with the overn ent . Finding law distas eful ,

' the future poet took ( after some months training in a business college ) a subordinate position in an insurance ’

fi c . of e Through inﬂuence of his father s friends , he a m was ppointed , so e months later , as clerk in the fi m municipal of ces of the ninth arrondisse ent , and later wa s prom oted to a clerkship in the Bureau of Budgets

c . 1 8 6 and Ac ounts This was in 4 , and the poet was then twenty years o ld.

was a . At this age he lready dissipated In fact , his irregul a r habits dated a lm ost from his entrance into the L é a sa n yc e Bon ap a rte . He describes with singul r g r o id Co n essi o ns f , in his f , how , at the age when most children are still in knickerbockers , he lost his innocence ba n a in a vile g ni o o a side street in P ris . V - -V as erlaine as a clerk in the Hotel de ille w indolent , spending most o f his time in a neighboring café in com m o f m pany with other municipal employes , a nu ber who l e i e . c L e e l t r had literary aspirations A cording to p , few o f these m unicipal clerks bothered their heads about a work . Verlaine had written verses from his e rly o f school days , and proﬁting by the light duties clerk o u t at m P o em es ship , he brought this ti e his ﬁrst book , t i s 1 6 a ur n e n . a Sa This work , thin volume of 3 p ges , “ L em e rre bore the i m print Alphonse , publisher , Paris ; 6 a 1 8 6 . 47 Pass ge Choiseul , m 1 8 6 C a ptain Verlaine having died in Dece ber , 5 , his widow continued to live at L e s Batignolles with her

m . son , upon who she lavished every tenderness Indeed , him a she s Oiled sh mefully , indulged him in everything , and o rgav e all his youthful follies . The young clerk sowed a tremendous crop of wild oats— coming home drunk at all hours o f the night . This lack of restraint H is L ife 1 7

in his youth , coupled with a weak will and neurotic

m am a s o f . te per ent, w the cause his downfall 1 8 6 V - -V In 9 , erlaine , still at the Hotel de ille , brought L em e rre m out , through the publisher , a second volu e éte ala n te o f m F s G s . poe s , the These were the happiest days Of the unfortun ate ’ - as ﬁv e . m a n s life . He w twenty The author Of two m o f m m volu es poe s which gave brilliant pro ise , secure m as and light employ ent , promising better things , he w o n e o f a group o f young writers who had alre a dy made o f m a noise in the world letters and who , under the na e ar na ssi e ns m of P , have left an indelible i pression upon

French literature . a He appears to have been popul r with his friends .

, In fact , through his entire life he seems to have had the

o f . gi ft friendship , and this , despite his eccentricities — His wa s a sort o f saturnine gaiety repulsive and pleas ing by turns . a a V hi s When C pt in erlaine died , he left widow in m modest but comfortable circu stances , and while the ’ a a s a as poet s s lary clerk w small , he spent it entirely m an d 1 8 6 upon hi self , a little money in 9 , in Paris , went

o n e m a . far , i f had Bohe i n tastes ha m e V S The poet d already t ictor Hugo , and ainte Beuve had earnestly and conscientiously praised his ’ é tu a A re i ha P o m es Sa rni e ns . B rbey d u v lly d also given a m m m him a slight st b o f criticis . He knew inti ately ost o f o as the literary people f Paris worth knowing . He w a welcom ed guest at the hom es o f influential and worthy o f people . Although exceedingly ugly face , he rather fascinated and stam ped his in div 1du ality upon those sa him f r who w o the first time . Usually careless in m no ! his costu e , he w dressed better , and he was in love Li fe at times is very much like those fine old Swiss clocks th at play a merry little tune and then strike the — hour solemnly . 1 8 P a ul Ve rla ine

’ ff a The obj ect of the poet s a ection w s Mdlle . - o n e O f hi s Mathilde Maute , half sister to friends , S ’ Charles de ivry, and it was at the latter s home that m he ﬁrst m e t her in the spring of 1 8 69 . It see s to have been a case O f love at fi rst Sight upon the art Of both . liild h . wa s m c s e M dlle Maute very young, al ost a , and m l a a see s to have been singu arly ttr ctive , judging from a she what has been written about her . Th t inspired ’ o n e o f m L a Bo nne the ost beauti ful of the poet s works , Cha ns o n G S ( The ood ong) , must ever resound to her credit . Unfortunate for her that her path Should have crossed th a t of the unh a ppy man whom she was later a n a to we d. Posteri ty will forgive her y f ults co m i t a a m t ed in hours o f sorrow . Verl ine as a husb nd was im possible . Youth and love ! The divine alchemy that tra ns mutes the b a se m etals o f d a ily li fe into the pure gold o f senti m ent ! The poet s ang :

Before thou t akest ﬂight a o f a P le star d wn sublime , — A thousand qu a il S m inging , singing in the thy e ,

Turn toward the poet , hi s ho Mark eyes w full of love , The lark

Mounts to the sky above .

o f The courtship the young couple was ﬁlled , alter n a el c a n d m a nd t y , with e stasy disappoint ent , the date a o f the wedding wa s postponed twice . Verlaine g ve up for the ti m e his dissipated habits a nd beca me a duti ful son , i f not an ideal lover . He continued to unburden o f 1 8 0 his he a rt with the good song , and the spring 7 saw hi s hopes about to be realized . He raised his voi ce in th at m atchless lay o f triumph ant j oy H is L ife

Winter ha s gone : the balm y light indeed

a . Dances , from earth unto the he vens clear m a m sad a O , well y the heart the ost ccede TO the imm ense j oy scattered in the a 1r

1 0 a fo r c The year 8 7 w s the Terrible Year Fran e . a The country wa s filled with rum ors o f w r . The date o set m o f f the wedding had been for the onth August , but before it took pl a ce hostilities had already begun . With what disaster and defeat ! With Ma cMaho n in a a o n am full flight and the Prussi ns adv ncing Paris , id éfilin a the noise o f regiments d g along the boulev rds , the nupti als were celebrated at the chur ch o f Notre wa s D am e de Cligm an co u rt . Among those present

at m a . Louise Michel , then a schoolmistress Mont rtre “ Of the oet at this tim e L ep elle ti e r says : He had a f r him a s a a am hope and a ith ; m rriage o w true s cr ent , ha . d an initiation of the soul He never loved , never a m m m been loved before . It w s the ost wonderful o ent in his li fe . It wa s during the ﬁrst ye a r o f his marriage th at Ve r L em e rre laine published , through , his third book of “ ” L Bo n Ch ns o n a m a ne a . poe s , A ﬂower in bombshell ,

Victor Hugo called it . While the Verl a ines celebrated their honeymoon at 2 du -L m No . Rue Cardinal e oine , where they had a an d Co m begun housekeeping , P ris was invested the

- m une raged . Things were topsyturvy at the Hotel de “ ’ ” an d a a a Ville , cloud bigger th n man s hand had — darkened their fo y er conjugal incom p atibility ! The poet deserted his clerical post ( or r ather failed to ca r follow M . Thiers to Versailles ) and shouldering a o f c 1 60th bine m ounted guard in defense the ity , in the - was b a ttalion o f the Rap ée B ercy . This during the

- 1 0 1 . winter, 8 7 7 c The weather was desperately cold , and the itizen soldier , in consequence , developed a desperate thi rst . 2 0 Pa ul Verla i ne

sa B efore long , he began to go home drunk , some y to beat his wi fe . Howbeit, the roses of August had shed their petals , and the Prussian guns had driven the blue bird far away . The young wi fe ﬂed also , going to the home of her parents . Thither the rpoet followed, and a tem por a ry reconcili ation took p lacie. The poet went

- - back to the Hotel de Ville in the spring , but during the hi s Se summer took wife to the country , returning in p hi s tember . Through neglect , notwithstanding that order had been restored in Paris , he lost his clerkship . ’ Fo r m a ti e the couple lived with the wi fe s parents , so n G o ne where their , eorges , was born , and where , a o f fat l day , the devil entered in the form Arthur

Rimbaud .

This singular genius was born at Charleville , 1 8 a n d a t hi s France , m 5 4 , the time of meeting with

V wa s o f . was erlaine a lad seventeen He precocious , and as a schoolboy ha d composed a number O f bizarre m P o ém es Sa tur ni e ns poe s . The having come to his notice , he wrote the author a ﬂattering letter , and the impressionable Verlaine invited him to visit Paris . ’ Paul and his wi fe were Still living with the latter s o f a parents , and the introducti on Rimb ud into their m o ho e was a fresh cause f discord . Rimbaud proved hi m self a drunken visionary a nd a nd 1 8 2 two m scoundrel , in July , 7 , the friends deca ped from Paris , going to Belgium where they led a vaga a bond existence . They also visited Engl nd , living in London for Several months upon funds supplied by ’ V 3 o u t erlaine mother , eked by a pittance earned from giving French lessons . 1 8 m In June , 73 , Verlaine and Ri baud were back in ’ h m im . B elgium , where Paul s other awaited in Brussels “ ’ L e elleti e r V p writes . erlaine s psychological state at

m . this period was distressing, al ost morbid I have already sai d that he detested and adored his wi fe . a Altern tely he cri ed for her , longed for her , cursed and

2 2 P a ul Ve rlai ne

m a Sa esse . Pal e , Catholic publisher , brought out his g

The work attracted little notice , and the publisher, hav ’ ing in the meantim e learned something o f the author s a life , destroyed the entire edition . Verlaine , ende vor m ing to support hi self and mother by literary work , his L e elleti e r was aided greatly by friend , p , then editor ’ o f the Re v e il . The poet was fo r a period o n the ff o f a m regular sta this p per , his work consisting ainly o f short sketches whi ch were collected in a prose volum e ' ’ L es Me m o i res d u n Ve u entitled , f ( The Memories of a Widower) ha d Upon his return to Pari s , the poet found new faces and new writers . His boyhood friends had dis o r c m m BO appeared , , be o ing fa ous , had left their hemian d ays behind . Younger writers were form ing m the symboli c school , later to group the selves under the ’ black flag o f the D éca den ts . The P a rnassi e ns o f 6 8 O ff a V had been hooted the st ge , and erlaine , later to m o f as beco e chief bonze this new school , w then almost unknown . He began to be seen at the Brass eri e Be rg er e and in a é a the c f s of the Quartier L tin , where he was usually G m No eau accompanied by er ain v , and where he met many new faces . His singular appearance and capacity for drink doubtless inspired m ore a ttention than his S a c genius as a poet . uddenly le ving the ity with his t mother , the poe again took up farming near the scene o f m a his for er failure , and it w s during this period ’ ( 1 8 83 - 8 4 ) th at he wa s sentenced to a month s i m prison m a ent for thre tening , during a fit of drunkenness , the o f li fe this devoted parent . e him co m W find back in Paris the following year , in pany with hi s mother , who forgave him everything, m but the poor wo an , worn with sorrow , did not long

a 1 8 8 6 . survive , dying in Janu ry, The poet was now a a alone . He w s ruined in ﬁnances , and his he lth was rapidly failing . Attacked with gout , his muscles atro H is L ife 2 3

f ied ’ and his j oints grew sti f . He could hardly walk . ‘ g15 m o f last cent spent , he beca e an obj ect charity . W o f m ith each recurring attack rheumatis , the Munici alit him m so p y sent to so e hospital , that practically the last ye a rs o f hi s li fe were spent in the charity wards of c m these institutions . He had be o e famous , and as “ ” m Poor L elain filled uch space in the papers . During o n e of his periods O f convalescence he m a de a lecturing m as re tour through Belgiu , where he w everywhere c i v e d c m i c e with be o ng deferen e . a a m Besides v rious fr g ents in prose , biographies , V travel notes and fantasies , his publisher , anier , ’ o u t V a a brought successively, in erl ine s l st years , sev a t m o f m er l hin volu es poe s , none of which , however , a a a equ led in literary v lue his e rlier work . “ All things com e to him who asks for nothing a even death . The Green Fai ry that h d so long pre a sided t his hours fl ew O ff o n e day . It was another S a — m a m h pe so ething d rk , so ething foreboding, that V a a a m . w s . frightened it erlaine g sober , but ill The c m — a a do tor ca e , looked into his face th t f ce devoured ” m a nd m a n d by drea s , feverish so nolent went away , a a sh king his he d . The next day, JM C the poet died . Fri ends began to appe a r at the little furnished apart Bu én i e ment on the rue Descartes , presided over by g a m Ni ni—M o u t o n . a Kr ntz , known so etimes as This w s ’ a m the poet s l st earthly asylum . Thanks to his istress , he did not die in the hospital . all am When was over , apdoctor who ex ined the body ‘ m m said , the deceased had at least ten ortal aladi es — he wa s worn o u t the m ere husk of a hum a n being ! m o ule ur A death mask was taken by the Meoni , and a hi ch a a the expense of the funer l , w took pl ce t the S - du church , aint Etienne Mont , was bornep by friends , S assisted by the tate . a f - The poet w s fi ty two ye ars Old when he died .

TH E WORK

o Paul Verlaine is a juggler by the grace Of G d.

Aline G o rren . 1 1 6 Tim e is the great puriﬁer . It is now ( 9 ) twenty years since the subj ect o f this study was lai d in the a has m grave . Human ch rity antled with kindly forget

fulness the faults inherent in his clay . In accord with th a t process o f nature which wills that a thing of beauty

shall never die , his poems have taken their deserving ’ pla ce in the world s literature . “ a was By the grace o f G o d Paul Verl ine a juggler , and something m ore ! To the critic o f his day the to ur de fo rce of this liter a ry necromancer was th a t O f string ing a num ber o f brightly colored words on a gossamer

thread o f thought and calling the displ ay a poem . The

trick was easy . It required neither skill nor talent . A

o f a nd . slight re a rrangement words , presto l a symbolist — ' A d a sh o f di a ble ri e and we have a deca de n t . There — S o f i s really nothing new but genius . chools poetry m a n d a as — a i s co e go . Yesterd y it w a Futurist tod y it i s — he Imagist . The cult forgotten the Poet alone

!1v e s.

The poems o f Paul Verlaine ﬁll three stout volum es . Owing to their subj ective tre atment and autobiograph a c a c co nt ra dic ic l h ra ter , they form a bewildering and S hi tory index to his ch a racter . ave in s early verse ,

V a was . \ erl ine personal , ﬁrst , last, and wholly ’ Rem y De G ourmont s a id the poet s ﬁrst master was

Banville ; the second , Baudelaire , and the third him [ 2 5 ] 2 6 P a u l Verla i ne

a m self . This char cteri zation i s probably the ost ac a o f curate , briefly st ted . However , the influence a s o c a o a Banville w not s pronoun ed as th t f B udelaire . The poet says in his Co nfe ssi o ns that L e s Fle u rs da Ma l o n e hi s was of earliest books , but that he pored m m over it without uch co prehension . ’ Verl aine S liter a ry a ctivity extended through three — distin ct periods o f Fren ch poetry those o f the P a r i e n m bo lists é t n a ss s S D ca de n s . m m , y , and In co on with a rn a ssi e ns a all the P , in his first liter ry expression , he wa s l a rgely influenced not only by B audel a ire and Ban “ G a L c L ville , but by utier and e onte de isle . The poets o f a m i this group s crificed everything to for , seek ng a t ff t sort of plas ic beauty, replete with pictorial e ec that m char ed the ear although lacking in assion and ideas , ’ m a e Ca m e es and unable to reach the heart . ux t and P o em e s Sa turni e ns might be taken as the work o f a single writer . V a no t t o However , Paul erl ine is , on the whole , be o f classed with any school French poetry , even that of éca de n ts D . m the He very early dropped the for al , — obj ective style o f verse the Sy m b o li st movem ent — a ffe cted him only slightly and it wa s not until nearly the end o f hi s troubled li fe that the so called D écade nts him a n c a him took up d de l red thei r master . This wa s the beginning of the period of his most original ( though not m ost pleasing) literary expression . a D écade n ts The n me , given to a group of young t 1 8 6 - é 1n wri ers , who , in 4 5 , used to frequent the caf s a L a m the Qu rti er atin , w s originally eant as an insulting

. m m appellation However , they i ediately seized upon it a has as slogan . Appli ed to literature , the word little

. m 1t signiﬁcance The writers to who was directed were , m a many of the , producing be uti ful work and creating som ething worthy of preserv ation . The word was used as a sort o f generic term to describe all those writers of Fi n de Si e cle literature whose work seemed disp l eas The Wo rk 2 7

b o ur e o i uri ta ni sm e a rnassi e ing to g s p . The P ns and S m b o li sts a a y re dily came under this characteriz tion .

The nam e persists . a a m t P ul Verl ine transcends all schools . He igh a m a c l ost be c lled the ﬁrst lyric voice in Fran e . The a French langu ge , which lends itself to such surprising a m a a m a an a rchit e and ch r ing prose , ppe rs too for l d c

a f o r l m a . tur l pure y e otion l poetry However , at the hands o f Verl a ine the m ost be auti ful results are o h “ S t a in e d. m There are poe s , says Arthur ymons , “ a s f a r a s can m which go verse go to beco e pure music , the voice of a bird with a hum a n soul . With Ve r a laine , the sense of he ring and the sense of sight a re alm ost inter change able : he paints with sound a nd his an d a H i a line tmosphere becom e m usic . s l ndscape i s a a an c c painting lw ys evo ation , in whi h outline i s lost ” in atm osphere . Verlaine is entirely untram m eled by any convention a l O f c m m a theori es o position . He oulds the l ngu age at “

. a o f c m his will Alw ys the poet instin t or i pulse , verse him a to i s a spont neous expression of feeling , cons cious o f no literary tradition and developing no consecutive ” thought, to quote Prof . Wells . L m ai who é m e i e tre , , next to Prof . Ren Dou i , s the ’ “ sev e ri st a poet s critic , says that he uses the l ngu age not ca like a great writer be use he knows it , but like a child c be ause he is ignorant of it . He gives wrong senses to h words in i s sim plicity . He scarcely ever expresses m m a ove ents of full consciousness or entire s nity . It is o n a this account , very often , that the me ning of his c a — if i s so — m song i s le r it at all to hi self alone . In am wa hi s a re m m the s e y , rhythms so eti es perceptible by

no o ne but himself . Fo r who a those read them in the original l ngu age , those poem s com monly m ost enj oyed are found in P o ém es Sa turni e ns Féte s G a la n tes L a Bo n ne Cha nso n , , , P a ul Ve rla i ne

R m a nces Sa ns a ro l es m O f o P , and so e the poems in Sa ess e J a di e Na u ere g and s t g . From whence came the inspiration o f the charming Féte G ala n tes s fi sa . S , it would be dif cult to y ome ’ che d ce uv re o f writers pro fess that this , the f the school ’ o f a rnassi e ns V L a the P , was inspired by ictor Hugo s ' ’ Féte Chez The rese ; others that Shakespeare s Mid ’ L e el summ er Night s Dream is the source . p leti er m his hazarding a guess , su s up conclusions as follows NO borrowed inspiration is to be found here ; it is o f o f r a synthesis the art the eighteenth centu y, a pres ent ati o n of the manners , conversations and diversions ” of that dainty and superficial period . S 1 8 : Prof . Wells ( ewanee Review , 95 ) writes To ’ ' o f L All e e o r o f Co lu m bi ne o catch the grace , ne must o f Pa rn m O f know a little y and uch Watteau , for the former poem is a Dresden shepherdess in Fi n de Si ecle Alexandrines and the latter is her j oyous companion in a s pg measure that might have charmed Banville him selp This i s what G eorge Moore says o f the oet Never shall I forget the fi rst en chantm ent 0 L e s Fét e n t s a . s G ala e . Here ll is twilight The royal mag nificen ces o f the sunset have passed ; the solemn beati o f tude the night i s at hand , but not yet here ; the ways are veiled with Shadow and lit with dresses , white , that the hour has touched with blue , yellow , green , mauve , and undecided purple ; the voices ? strange contraltos ; o f o r m the forms ? not those men wo en , but mystic , hybrid creatures , with hands nervous and pale , and eyes ‘ charged with eager and fit ful light u n soi r ' ’ ’ ‘ e uiv o u e d a u to m ne l es belles e nde n t r é q q , p ’ ‘ v eu ses 2: n o s bras and they wh1sp er les m o ts ' sp e ci e ux e t to u t bas “Gautier sang to his antique lyre praise of the flesh and contempt of the soul ; Baudelai re on a medieval organ chanted his unbelief in goodness and truth and

3 0 P a ul Verla i ne

It was in R o m a nce s Sa ns P a r o les that Verl a ine found

. a o f himself A str nge book , indeed , born a troubled f his o . a a period early li fe Here begins th t lit ny which , a — m while life l sted , he never ceased to chant la ent for o n a t i rr o the wife who , through his w f ul , he had ev “ eably lost . How thoroughly had he learned that L e ’ ’ ” asse n e st a m a is u n ch o p j e o se m rte . t Here , also , are emphasized hose melancholy lan gu o rs and pe culi a r thrills of grief which permeate so “ m o f . W a t Ve r uch his verse here Baudel ire is bi ter , sad a - laine i s only , s ys Turquet Milnes . And here , “ m h also , he see s ﬁrst to recognize t e Whole charm of the word half spoken and of faltering with grace in a m anner whi ch caused him to appe a r less i nt ellec ” l m m t u a l a . y clear than e otion lly si ple Ah , the hope “ lessness of love ! the vague sentiment th a t he listened t o o n t a m in his w mind , as to a far dis nt elancholy song :

' 0 triste triste e ta it m o n dm e , ’ A ca use a ca use d u n e ,

' ’ Writing o f hi m self in Me m o i r es d u n Ve u ( doubt less i n a mood o f intense e nn u i a n d forget u l of the - u Pa rallél em e nt o f a a full blooded creat res of , C sta Pi na and other gloriﬁed courtesans ) the poet s ays

Are you like m yself ? I hate people full o f blood . I despise the whole r a nk o f fa m ous p ainters and s culp

a m a a fo r . tors , notwithst nding y dmir tion their works a m e Noisy voices , rude l ughter , shock beyond expres — i n a . sion , a word , I dislike he lth By health I do not mean th at m a rvelous h a rmony o f soul and body which S a n d a the heroes o f ophocles possessed , the ntique statues o f p agan philosophers , but this dreadful , red a c m f e , noisy j oy , burned , perspiring skin , plu p hands , — o f a nd thick feet the whole m ass body colors , a super m abund ance of which our epoch see s to enj oy . The Wo rk 3 1

SO - a From the s am e motives , I hate the called he lthy m : poetry . I agine only this B eauti ful girls , beautiful —‘ ’ — a so u lS a . boys , be utiful , mens s na etc , everything

beauti ful beyond words . As for the background : o f sk su n G reen woods , green ﬁelds , blue the y , golden , — I . weaving white , turn awa in disgust “

m ? a . Are you like yself I not, le ve me alone But so t m e a a S i f , s ay and tell bout eptember afternoon , sad about a burning , a fternoon , when the golden ray o f m elancholy falls upon the dying and over- ripe land m a . a e sc pe In such a fr me , Show a quiet , queenlike o f m a o f f ﬁgure a wo n , weary suf ering , whose youth is

a . p st but a few years Her strength is not great ; still , h she . a s e can walk in the park Cl d in a white dress , has sk c large , gray eyes , like the y , un hanging like the : horizon . Truth is written in those eyes a profound , a m s w r passion i hidden in them . “ My heart a n d m y thoughts a ccom pany this pale she a enchantress , while , in her ﬂowing dress , w lks over a - s r the f ded ﬂowers , among the over ripe fruits , u ” o f m rounded by the scent autu n . Sa esse Of g , written in prison at Mons , an over powering sense o f sham e and m isery quite overbal anced hi s m a c stim ind , already we kened by ex essive use of u a a a l nts . Enforced continence , lso , contributed tow rd a him violent mental disturb nces , so that he soon found in m o f m o f m m a self the fra e ind so e edieval , ecst tic monk and bega n pouring forth a series o f verses as a n d mystical unintelligible as any in the Apocalypse . Quite in keeping with this m ent al a ttitude a re the poem s o f Pa rallél em ent , most of which were written at the

m m . . o f a sa e ti e Ch Donos , writing this book , s ys “ The reading o f Pa rallelem ent i s equivalent to taking a n ac aphrodisi of exquisite ﬂavor . It evokes the vision o f a henn in horde of unbridled luxuries , y g like a band of wild stallions turned loose a m ong mares o n an open f L e a o . s assi o ns les lus erv erse pr iri e the Far West p p p , 3 2 Paul Verla i ne

' ' les v i ces a rio r m a ux h rs na ture s o nt ce le bres m a , o , , g ’ niﬁes da ns ce li v re . Ma zs e n des v ers si m erv e ille ux de ’ ’ ’ a ctur e a v e c de telles su btili tes d ex re ssi o n d u n f , p , r thm e t o ur a t o ur berce ur co m m e de le nts baise rs o u y , ’ ' ' ’ rav i da ns l e la n des bru ta les e tri e nt es qu il e n g arde l e ’ ' cara ct re d u ne ce uv re li tteraire si nc re e t de ha u te e , e ' ” a e v l e ur p o ti qu e . ’ Verl a ine s poetical output after his release from prison and the publication o f Sag esse was m ore m ature J a dis e t Na u ére and original , though less brilliant . g a — cont ined some poems in his best vein likely written , Am o u however , at an earlier period . In r the poet celebrates 1n graceful verses his friendship fo r Lucien é m L tino i s. o f Here , also , may be found so e his strong

. 13 est , most original and best poised work The note llel m n . Para e e t S largely personal In , to quote tefan “ ! o n o f weig, he w the crown all pornographic works Bo nhe u 1s with perverse and indecent poems . r a less ardent Sag esse where the note of self -pity predominates and Cha nso ns p o ur Elle and O des e n So n H o n ne ur celebr a te his various mistresses . These two books are distorted echoes o f The G ood Song resounding in an L i tur i es I nti m e empty heart . g s are little less puerile Sa esse a than portions o f g . With adv ncing years his a work showed ste dy deterioration , and his voice , for as o f the most part , w that

nu v i e ux p o e te e rre da ns la g o u ttzere ’ ” Av e c i i n n t l ux la tr s te v o x d u fa om e fri e .

’ As Verlaine 3 poetry deﬁes analysis in its original language , so does it defy interpretat on in English . “ i ” H o w much o f his work will live ? asks a writer ’ Lep elleti e r 3 Li fe of Verlaine 1n Current Lit “ Perhaps a hundred pages , but those pages e poets of the 1 9th cen er ; he throws no illu m i The Work 33 nating ray upon the problems that v ex humanity ; he o f speaks to us neither fortitude nor hope , but in its verbal m agic and power to evoke half-forgotten moods V ’ and emotions , the best of erlaine s work is the pure gold o f literature .

TH E C U LT OF VERLAINE

Th at the qu ality o f m u ch o f the work of P aul Ve r a o f l ine is the highest literary value , and that his fame ifs growing r a ther th a n dim inishing are i ncontestable acts . ibli o ra hi Ve rlain G . B c i eorge A Tournoux , in his g p L 1 1 2 c L . enne ( eipzig , ibraire E Rowohlt , 9 ) indi ates

references upon the subj ect of his monogr aph . a a a This work , lthough of gre t v lue to the student , m m m akes no pretension to being co plete . The co piler o f this interesting contribution to letters s ays in the “ introduction : We h ave thought it necess a ry to dis regard the notations i n the gener al histori es of French a c a a n d e hem liter ture , the ency lopedi s , the works of p a eral v lue , also those studies where the question of Verlaine appears m erely in an accidental o r sum m ary a m o f manner . I f we have dep rted fro this line a o f a i s ca o f conduct in f vor cert in articles , it be use the em inence of their authors a s well as the char a cter of a c a the periodic l , or that the ircumst nces under which ” they were published gave them a particular value . a c a The Tournoux monogr ph , whi h c rries the work o f a o f 1 1 1 rese rch up to the beginning the yea r 9 , is divided 1nto two sections . The ﬁrst deals with the work o a a 1 0 f Verlaine published in Fr nce . One not tion ( 7 ) in this division shows the com plete works of the poet to h ave been published 1n L eipzig by Rowohlt m 1 9 1 0 . Interesting also to note are the books o f a pornographic [ 3 5 ] 3 6 P a ul Verlai ne character which have at times fallen under the ban of the courts

1 8 67 ’

. S Les Amies cenes d amour saphique . l e é H e rla n z Par licenci Pablo de g e . — n- 1 Poulet Malassis . Petit i 2 . L S ’ 6 . es . Amies cenes d amour saphique . l e é H rl a n z Pa r licenci , Pablo de e g e . i - 1 8 0. Pe n I 2 7 t t i .

1 8 90

. m m é e e n 3 7 Fem es . Impri sous l manteau t e se vend

- i n 1 8 . nulle part .

1 904 1 é . m le n 9 . Hombres Impri sous manteau et e se vend

- i n 1 8 . nulle part .

I 9O 7

L a é . V . 94 Trilogi e rotique de Paul erlaine (Amies , in- . a et . 8 . Femmes , Hombres ) P ris Londres Quinze eaux- fortes de Van Tro i z em et u n avant h erlai ni en propos par u bibliophile v .

L es Am i es It was the ﬁrst of these , ( The Friends ) o f L dealing with female friendships a esbian nature , o f o f which caused the order arrest the publisher, the a o f u redoubtable A . P . M lassis , Brussels , p blisher , also ’ e u r ll a o f Baudelaire s Fl s du I l . The destruction o f L es Am i es was ordered by the l ti e r o f L 6 1 8 6 8 . L e el e courts ille , May , p , in his o f biography of the poet , writes this book with much ’ “ n ai v e te : S in , as follows These onnets are now ff o ensive in consequence of later publications in France , both in prose and verse , by numerous writers on the same dangerous subj ect ; but at that time ( date o f

3 8 P a ul Ve rla i ne

l et e . im en e z m the H e li o s 1 0 p J writes ( October , 9 3 ) P a bl o Ve rla i n e y su n o v i a la l u na (P aul Verlaine and h ’ L la e m c a . i s bride the m oon . n t o n i o r z o n ( It set c weeps in my heart) is to musi by R . Villar from

. . a words by E Diez Canedo ( M drid ye t Bilboa . Casa Do o t esi .

a Sa Bolivia , Argentin , M exico , nto Domingo and other Spanish Am erica n countries know the poet through tr a nsl ations by native writers . In Italy Pi ca and Erm ini have written mu ch con cerning the poet . There are no anthologies in book h form . L om broso pays i s respect to the poet in Nu o v i studi so l e ni o o n g ( New studies genius ) . ’ Roumania has only o n e collection of the poet s work f S o si f E t . . . in the anthology o D . Anghel and O J ( u 1 0 in charest . Minerva . 9 3 . In Russi a Verlaine is popular and ha s been widely

an S a . read , both in the French d l vonic tongues Brous ’ l n 1 1 1 sov s anthology , published Moscow m 9 , is the h S lo b . a s a a . o o u longest Petrograd tr nslation by F g ,

1 0 8 . I m o f 9 Russia S also credited with a nu ber other , though shorter , collections . To English re a ders it appears singular that the cult o f Verlaine should be so widespre a d 1n G erm any . To ho those , however , w have closely followed the trend o f G erm a n literature and thought during the past two

13 . decades , the fact not surprising Tournoux notations for G erm any are as follows

1 900

a . V . . . 5 64 . O . H user Paul erlaine Berlin Concordia

- Petit in 1 6 .

i e le r . V . . 5 65 . P . W g Baudelaire und erlaine Berlin ’ - i n 1 6 . Behr s Verlag .

1 902

V . G . 5 66 . Paul erlaine edichte Eine Anthologie der n n v o n besten Ube rt ragu g e . Herausgegeben The Cult o f Verla i ne 3 9

L ! . t S Stefan weig Berlin e eipzig . chuster ct

- L o eﬂl er. in 1 6 .

G . V S . V . e 5 67 . E . inger Paul erlaine edichte ienne t

- L L it era ran st alt . n 1 6 N tu i . eipzig . eue

G o n a . . v V . 5 6 8 . H . Kirchner edichte Paul erl ine Halle - 6 i n 1 . Hendel . h . Au s ewa . lt e G e 5 69 . O . Handler Paul Verlaine g l in - S . Mu en e . 1 . d 6 dichte trasburg Heitz ct . h - Nac i l . h n 1 Sc auk al . V hd u 5 7 . R . er aine Heredia c t he i - O e ster ld. h 8 gen . Berlin . .

lck r h a . Ka eu t . V A s e 5 7 2 . W . von Paul erl ine u g hl L - i - V . n 6 a e G . . 1 w t edichte eipzig Insel erlag . Among other writers who have contributed to the ’ ff o f G m di usion the poet s works in er an are Arnold , G G Beth e M ehring , Ostwald , eorge , undlach , bels , g , ff H n k e c ell . Ja e , Evers and Nearly all the leading G m m a er an gazines , as well as newspapers , have pub li shed notices upon Verlaine and his work . a a S m In Holl nd, Norw y , weden , Den ark , Poland , G a m a h Hungary, reece , Portug l and Bohe i , the poet as

found appreciative readers . V In English speaking countries , erlaine has been appreci a ted but not widely read . Perhaps the i rregu lariti e s o f his conduct during his li fe attract the atten o f a tion the public more th n his work . G S eorge Moore , Arthur ymons , F . A . Cazals , John G an ray , Ernest Dowson d Ashmore Wingate are prom i nent a among English writers who have spre d his fa m e . G m a n To eorge Moore , ore than to y other , is due the o f credit introducing him to the English public , and no

o n e has written m ore interestingly o f the poet . Until ’ ha s the present , Wingate s translation been the longest ’

. S all in English ymons translations , too few in num a m ber , surp ss in work anship any heretofore published a a in English . These h ve ppeared in the Mosher col

lection o f gift books in America . In many ways the translation of Verlaine ’s poems by 40 P a ul Ve rlai ne

G o f ertrude Hall , translator Chantecler, is most satisfactory . It is to be regretted the collection is so

. S 8: abridged Published by tone Kimball , Chicago , 1 ha m 8 95 . Verlaine s been known to A erican readers chi eﬂy through this work . Throughout his li fe Verlaine was an interesting sub

ct for artists . Degas painted him in the Absinthe jg ! rinker , and orn , Pearson , Cazals , Carriere and many others have contributed interesting studies . ’ Cazals drawing, which hangs in the National Museum L o f m . the uxembourg , Paris , is ost striking Here the a idealization is m rked . The poet is no longer the man m in of enigmatic bu ps and grotesque visage , but the — mate o f a hospital a neutral spot o n the borderland — o f De ath and all his being seems blurred with i n ff a e ble mystery . Numerous composers have set his songs to music poems so musical in themselves that music o f another a m seems almost a profan tion . In A erica John Alden

Carpenter has set to m usic four poems . Published by S chirmer , New York . ’ L The poet s statue stands in the uxembourg gardens , and an annual dinner is given in Paris to the memory — o f this great child fo r all poets a re only men who have kept fresh in their hearts the f ancies of child — hood and Verlaine kept also the weaknesses .

BERGEN AP P LEGATE .

1 1 6 . May, 9 PO E M S SATU RNINE

( PO EMES SA TURNI ENS)

TO EUGENE CARRIERE

o f as THE Wise old , learned as men today , an d B elieved , this point yet is not quite clear, a That they could re d their future in the skies ,

And th a t e a ch soul wa s guided by a star . ( Men have railed much nor haveythey paused to think How foolish and deceiving laughter IS

Concerning all these mysteries nocturne . ’ No w who 1n SATURN S those have been born reign , a m a ( Red pl net dear to necro ncers ) have , so sa B etween them , magicians used to y , o Full measure f unhappiness an d bile . m The I agination , inﬁrm and weak , o f Distorts the subtile efforts the Will , And 1n their veins the poisoned blood stream ﬂows L ike lava , withering all before , so that sad I o The Ideal often S put u t . So m ff S a ust they su er , these aturni ns , 8 0 — m m must die ad itting they are ortal . Their plan of li fe was fashioned line by line

According with an inﬂuence malign . RESIG NATIO N

Y ALWA OF KOHINOOR , N O OF PAPAL SHO W AND PE RSIAN S PLE D R . HELIO GABALU S AND SAR DANAPALU S !

’ ’ o e r My young desire created , neath domes splashed W ’m id m m ith gold , sounds of usic , perfu es fresh ,

The wild delirious harems o f the ﬂesh .

a Today more c lm , with no less ardent mind , n But knowing li fe a d how its ways should lie ,

I am more ﬁt to check my ancient folly,

Though even yet I ca nnot be resigned .

m So be ! My taste for gr a ndeur shows beti e . But ﬁe o n phrases ﬁne a nd fair things human ! ’ m Henceforth I ll hate the m erely pretty wo an ,

4 6 P a ul Verlai ne

AFTER T H REE YEARS

I PUSHE D aside the n a rrow swinging gate To m a stroll within the garden green and s ll , S m a s n ome orning r ys the u let sweetly fall , S pangling the ﬂ owers with j ewels , as in state .

all : Nothing has changed . I have seen the vine ,

The hum ble arbor with its rustic ch a irs . a The j et of water pl ying silvery airs , And the o ld aspen with its plaint divine !

o ld o n e The roses nod , as of , and sees

The lily proudly balance o n the breeze . a The larks th t go and come I know them yet .

I even found Valle da sta nding there ’ a At the w lk s end , her plaster scaled , and bare , — ’m id m Frail , the pungent scent of ignonette .

AH ! the raptures ! the ﬁrst mistresses ! G m o f . old hair , blue eyes , and blosso s the ﬂesh

The odor of the bodies young and fresh . The fearful j oy o f the ﬁrst shy caresses ! — H as all forever gone sweet foolishness ! ! And all those old time candors Ah , returning P o em s Sa turni ne 47

’ ’ Toward youth s lost spring they ve ﬂed , the winter spurning ! Of my ennui , disgust and sore distress

sad So here am I at last , and alone , Cold as an altar— colder than a stone ’

who . Orphan , knows no elder Sister s love

0 woman , whose caress my soul beguiled ,

Brunette , pensive and sweet , that naught can move , 1 ch1ld ! Who sometimes kisses gently , l ke a

LASSITUDE

m a m o e A ba tallas de a o r c p d p lu m a . G ( ongora ) .

0 O O ! THE sweetness , the sweetness , the sweetness fo r Calm your fevered transports a while , my charming !

Be like a sister , sometimes , peacefully warming, ’ o n e And soothing for ﬂ eeting hour love s wild excess .

Be languorous , making the drowsy caresses ;

All equal your sighs and your glances obsession . G o m o f , the j ealous e brace and pang possession o f Are not worth the price the long lying kiss .

o f But in your dear heart gold , you tell me , my child .

The false passion goes sounding her clarion wild .

Let her sound at her ease , hussy delirious .

m Put your forehead on y forehead , your hand in mine , a o u a o h And m ke me the oaths y will bre k , , so ﬁne . O And weep till the dawn , little imperious ! 48 P aul Verlai ne

MY FAMILIAR DREAM

O FTTI MES I have this strange and penetrating dream : ho An unknown woman whom I love and w loves me , ho And w , though never changing , ever seems to be — i e n Another n whose eyes I s e a well k own gleam .

h S e understands . My heart that doth transparent seem

For her alone , alas , ceases also to be

For her , alone , a problem ; and her tears fall free

Upon my palli d brow , refreshing as a stream .

o r - ? n w! B runette , or blonde , Titian haired I do not k o ’ Her name ? Twas sweet I well recall when spoken low ,

As sweet as those beloved ones by Life exiled .

Her glance is that of statues—looks that vaguely thrill — c And for her voice alm , faintly sounding , gravely

mild ,

It hath the echo of dear voices long since still .

To A WOMAN

TO you these songs for the consoling grace Of your great eyes where laughs and weeps a dream ; For your pure soul whose goodness sheds a beam T O you these songs out of my deep distress . P o em s Sa tur ni ne

What hideous nightmares haunt me in this place ;

Foolish , j ealous , furious , and that seem

To multiply like wolves whose white fangs gleam ,

Threatening the while to leave their bloody trace .

! ff Oh how I su er , suffer and repine , ’ So that the ﬁrst grief o f the world s ﬁrst man Driven from Eden scarce com pares with mine !

o r And may your cares be like , lighter than a o n sk The sw llows a of afternoon , — y o n S m . Dear a fair epte ber day, in tune

ETCH INGS

PARISIAN SKETCH

THE moon was spreading pale tints o f zinc Obliquely let fa ll ; And the rising smoke - shapes m ade o n e think ’ ﬁv e o r Of a ﬁgure e the house tops tall .

The sky was gray, with a wind that sighed Like a sad bassoon ; And afar a Shivering tom cat cried o f With the strange frail notes a ghostly tune .

m n And I drea ed of Plato as I strolled o ,

And of Phidias , o f S o f And alamis , and Marathon , ’ o f o f Neath the blinking eyes blue j ets gas . 5 0 Pa ul Ve rlaine

MARINE

THE deep sounding sea Throbs under the eye Of the sad moon o n high

Throbs mournfully .

Whilst the lightning , sheer , Cuts brutally down Through heavens o f brown

With long zigzag clear .

And the waves rising high

With long convulsive bound ,

From reef to reef resound, G o , come , shine and cry .

In the heavens , where ﬂee n The storm gods 1 wonder, Fi erce roars the thunder F0 rm idably .

EFFE CTS OF NIG HT

THE night . The rain . A pale sky cut with ragged j et Black towers and spires that are today the silhouette

Of an old Gothic town , dim in the distant gray . o f The plain . A gibbet full hanging rogues that sway S haken and torn by cutting beaks of famished crows , P o e m s Sa tu rni n e 5 1

a - 1 s And dancing in the d rk strange life like j g in rows , The while their dangling feet the wolves make pas o f ture . S ome bushes with their scattered thorns , and then above Some hollies turning as with horror their wet leaves o a s N w to the right , now left, when the eye perceives ’ o n a an Them the sooty b ckground of artist s sketch . a And then , round three livid barefoot prisoners stretch o f A host halberdiers , like giants marching by ; set Whose straight , harrow pointed pikes seem to the eye ’ The rain s keen lances thrown from a black sky .

GROTES ! UES

THEIR legs serve for horses , Fo r o f all gifts the gold their eyes , By the road o f adventures

They go , torn and despised .

a The wise , indignant , h rangue them ; Fools rail at their haz a rdous way ; The children put o u t their tongues m And the girls mock the all day .

They are the ridiculous ; a Odious and m lignant they seem . They have in the twilight

The air o f a bad drea m . 5 2 Paul Verlai ne

On their bitter guitars These libertines strike the shrill string ;

Intoning the chants bizarre ,

Nostalgic and revolting .

And at last in their eyes

Laughs and weeps , or fastidiously nods , The love of things eternal The o ld dead and the ancient gods !

G o then , old vagabonds !

Wander , noxious creatures of old vice , Along abyss and strand Shut o u t from paradise !

Fo r nature j oins with man

To punish rightly by and by, The melancholy pride that makes m arc th You h wi forehead high .

Venging o n you the blasphemy Of vast hopes and violent intents ; Bruising your foreheads curst

the rude elements . ‘With

June burns , and December

Freezes your ﬂ esh where the bones show through . The fever possesses your limbs

Wracked and covered with dew .

54 Pa ul Verlaine

TWI LI HT F M YSTI C EVE M G O EMORY , here with the Twilight Reddens and trembles o n the distant rim sk Of ardent y , Where Hope glows like a bright

Enduring flame , that , wavering and slim , Draws back and then expands like some far dim —Mysterious garden ; where flower on flower Dahlia , lily , tulip and buttercup G row rank upon a trellis , blooming hour b hour In fl aming rings ; where noxious m1sts exu e m , o o —A perfu e strong and warm wh se pois n Dahlia , lily, tulip and buttercup

Drowning my soul , my senses , and my reason ,

Unites , in one vast lassitude ,

Memory here with the Twilight . Po e m s Sa turni n e 5 5

PROMENADE SENTIMENTA L

THE sunset da rted its level beam Where the wind - rocked w a ter lilies dream The water lilies calm and pale

That shine where reeds are green and frail . a a And I w ndered alone with heart full sore ,

By the pool where the willows line the shore , Where the va gue mist wakened a phantom tall ’ o f That wept in the voice the wild fowls call , When they be a t their wings by the willows white Where I wandered alone in the shrouding night Through the Shadows th a t drowned the level beam Where the wind-rocked water lilies dream The water lilies calm and pale

That shine where the reeds are green and frail .

VA L P URGI S NI HT C LASSI C G ,

TH IS o f is rather the sabbat the second Faust, than the other ; — A rhythm i c sabbat rhythm ic as a l ay m a Is rhythmic . I agine a g rden by L enotre

a nd . Correct , ridiculous gay

— in Flower beds in circle their midst, the fountains ; walks Arrow straight and sylvan gods in m arble ; gods m arine In bronze ; with here and there a Venus coyly draped ; The trees aligned ; a bowling green ; 5 6 P a ul Verlaine

Chestnut trees ; and ﬂowering plants forming a leafy dune ; Some dwarfed rose bushes set about with loving care ;

1n . B eyond , the yews well placed triangle The moon

Of summer shining softly there .

Midnight sounds , and wakens in the depth of this old park — a A melancholy air heavy , slow and sadly listless air A ’ huntsman s lay , sweet, low and melancholy as

The hunting song in Tannhauser .

o f Then comes a veiled and distant chant horns , whose tenderness Of sense quite overcomes the soul ’s distress with sweet

accords , Harmoniously discordant in their wild excess ; And to this call o f horns

o f There comes a band white robed , slowly moving forms hano u s o n Dia , which the moon beams seem to play Wit opal tints a m ong the shadows o f the branches green ff A Watteau dreamed o f by Ra et .

o f And mingling with the soft green shadows the trees ,

With gestures languishing and full of grief profound , Thesegforms amid the bronzes begin a mystic d a nce

A dance wherein they circle slowly round .

These swaying spectres— are they nothing but the thought — Of some poor drunken bard o r the remorse in his bewildered head P o e m s Sa turni n e 5 7

These spectres that with rhythmic tread dance on the turf ? Or are they simply spirits o f the dead ?

O who Are they then thy regrets , dreamer invites this

hell , o r m — a ?— Thy thoughts , thy re orse s y these creatures Spurned ? T'hese spectres that som e maddening impulse sways ; Or have the dead to madm en turned ?

! No matter they are always here , these phantoms of

the brain , Making their mournful round and winding ever o n ; a o f su n Whirling like atoms in the clear r ys the , m That in a mo ent suddenly are gone .

’ a o e rco m es Palli d and d mp , the dawn them one by o n e The horns and all— they pass with coming day Till nothing more remains— nothing— but a garden by

Lenotre , a Correct, ridiculous and g y .

AUTUMN SONG

LO NG sobbing winds , The violins

Of autumn drone , Wounding m y heart With l anguorous smart

In m onotone . 5 8 P aul Verlai ne

Choking and pale , When on the gale The hour sounds deep I call to mind

Dead years behind ,

And I weep .

And I , going , Borne by blowing

Winds and grief , — Flutter , here there , As on the air

The dying leaf .

’ TH E S HE P HERD S HOUR

sk THE moon is red upon the eastern y , In mists that dance the sm oky meadow li es ; Afar one hears the frog that shrilly cries

Among the reeds where twilight zephyrs die .

’ The marsh ﬂowers close beside the water s edge ; ’ The poplars proﬁle on the skies far rim , S erried and straight , their specters vague and dim ;

While the wandering ﬁreﬂy seeks the hedge .

- The screech owls waking take their noiseless ﬂight , B eating the black air with thei r heav wings ;

The sky i s ﬁlled with dully shining t ings , — V i . White , enus glistens t is Night P o e m s Sa turni ne 5 9

TH E N I GH TI NGA LE

LI KE frightened birds loud calling in their ﬂight , m e My memories beat upon with their might . o n O f m B eat the yellow foliage y heart ,

That , like a lonely alder grown apart, Mirrors its trunk and blighted br a nches wet In the dull Violet waters o f Regret

That SlO W and ever mournfully ﬂow near . And then the troubled sound made by a drear a m — Moist breeze th t ounts , then slowly dies SO well That in the end I hear from o ut the dell Only the low cle a r voice celebrating — The absent L oved One O so languishing !

Of that sweet bird , my ﬁrst Love , whose warm lay Comes back a ga in as in the ﬁrst glad day ; And in the splendor sad a glow Where soon Rises all pale and solem nly the moon ; o f m m A melancholy twilight full su er , Of silence and obscurity— no murmur Rocked on the azure that the sweet wind sweeps m — Only the tree that tre bles the bird that weeps .

CAPRI C ES

WOMAN AND CAT

S a HE was pl ying with her cat , . se e Marvelous it was to , a Hands and p ws , tit for tat, so a In the gloom pl yfully . 60 Paul Verlaine

One was hiding— then a pause ! ’ m Neath her mittens , ﬁnely ade , m - Glea ed the agate pointed claws , ’ Keener than a razor s blade .

Then the cat more tender grew ,

- And its steel like claws withdrew .

But the devil watched with care .

And the dimly lighted room Heard her laugh that circled where

Four bright eyeballs cut the gloom .

SONG OF TH E INGEN UES

06E are the Ingénues With braided hai r and eyes of blue Who live in Old romances

Unread save by the few .

And arm in arm we go , Fo r the day i s not more bright o f o r Than the crystal u thoughts , o u r And dreams are of the light .

We run in the meadows o u r Where laughter never dies , From dawn until the vespers

We chase the butterﬂies .

’ And o u r shepherds bonnets

Keep us fresh and pale , And our dresses white

Are so extrem ely frail .

6 2 Pa ul Ve rla i ne

-in - To make the rich Monsieur Machin his son law . a A pudgy , fat, respected botanist , he s w

- - In every poet born a good for nothing cheat .

ho These bearded , uncombed loafers , w he hates them — whew !

They ﬁll his soul with horror, all this shameful crew And ﬂowery springtim e shines upon his slippered feet !

SUB U R BE

THE little yews of the cem etery Tremble before the wintry blasts

In the clear cold light .

With a sound mournful and sad The crosses o f wood over the new graves 1br a V at e with an abnorm l tone .

S m ilent as the strea s ,

But full of tears as the ﬂoods , 1 The sons , the mothers , and the w dows

Through the paths o f the sa d enclosure

Wander , a slow procession , m f To the wounding rhyth o sobs . The yielding soil under thei r feet seems to On high the huge clouds twist

And tear themselves with fury .

Penetrating a s rem orse ’ a o e r o we rs Falls the he vy cold that p ,

Seeming to reach even to the dead .

a To the poor de d , who are always l a A one , and who tremble unce singly, — Forgotten by some o r wept by others . Po e m s Sa turni ne

S Ah , come quickly, O thou pringtime , clear su n With thy and caressing , With thy sweet birds ch attering !

M ake bloom with ench a ntingg Glory the ga rdens an d the fields Thatythe rude winter holds 1n distress !

And , when the sunsets fall S sk preading with gold the boundless y , Soothe with sweet odors and with songs

r m ! Dea absent ones , your ournful sleep

SERENADE

LIKE the voice o f one dead yet singing o f From the depth the grave , a m He r thou , O my istress , the stinging S f hrill voice o thy slave .

Open thy soul an d thy ear to the sound Of my mandoli n ; Fo r a a thee h ve I m de , for thee to resound ,

This song cruel and thin .

I sing to thine eyes , they are onyx and golden , No shadows are there m To thy boso , as Lethe , the olden S x o f To the ty thy hair .

Like the voice of one dead yet singing o f a From the depth the gr ve ,

Hear thou , O mypmistress , the stinging S hrill voice of thy slave . 64 Paul Verlai ne

- Then I praise over much , as beﬁtting ,

Thy ﬂesh ever blest , Whose opulent perfume comes ﬂitting

Through my nights o f unrest .

And I sing of thy red lips , intently Lips red as a j ewel ;

Of the martyrdom laid on me gently, — My Angel m y Ghoul !

Open thy soul an d thy ear to the sound Of m mandolin ;

For thee ave I made , for thee , to resound

Thi s song cruel and thin .

A DAHLIA

COURTESAN with hard breast and eye opaque and

brown , o f That slowly opens like the calm eyes a steer ,

Your thick stem shines like marble , newly cut and clear .

Flower plump and rich , yet odorless , all your renown

Is in your tempting body , serene as summer skies ,

That dully glows , displaying its rare harmonies .

Nor have you ﬂ esh like those fair ones who all the day S trew on the summer ﬁelds the rows of new mown hay, ’ Enthroning you , dumb idol , midst the incense light .

— a Thus , the kingly Dahli , clad in robes of splendor ,

Rises without pride hi s head that has no odor ,

Disdainfully, among the taunting j asmines white . Po em s Sa turnine 65

NEVERMORE

m o ld a c O ! , NWARD , my poor heart Onward y co m p lzce !

Redress and paint anew each ﬂaunting archway bold .

Burn a rancid 1ncen se o n the altars o f false gold .

So w with ﬂowers the borders o f the precipice . m o ld a cco m li ce ! Onward my poor heart ! Onward , y p

G o d ! Lift to thy canticle , rej uvenated singer

a Deu m s . Entone , hoarse org n , thy Te rising high ’ o ld Men , before your time , paint the wrinkles neath

y our eye ,

Cover the yellow walls with tapestry maroon . L G o d ! i ft to thy canticle , rej uvenated singer

Sound ch1m es ! Sound little bells ! Sound bells ! Fo r m y vain dream has t aken shape and now I hold m - o ld It ppressed between y arms this Happiness of , Tha m en a — o a t ﬂies when pproach this j y unspe kable . Sound chimes ! Sound little bells ! Sound bells !

a a H ppiness has w lked side by side with m e . ’ ’ i ﬁtfu a can s l . But F te ne er desist , such li fe s scheme i s The worm in the fruit , the awakening in the dream ,

m la . And re orse in love , such is the w of life has Happiness walked side by side with me .

I L BACIO

( TH E KISS )

’ THE Kiss ! Pink hollyhock 1n L ove s domain ! A lively tune on little keys o f pearl m o f m a Fra ed by the lips so e de r girl . ’ ’ An 3 a angel s song with love well known refr in . 66 Paul Ve rlaine

Sweet sounding Kiss ! O melody divine ! What luxury can match your drunkenness ? m Fro your bright cup man drinks his deepest bliss ,

And thus grows dizzy as from heavy wine .

’ ’ o r a Like the Rhine s vintage , singer s rhymes , — You soothe o u r pain old sorrows cold Die with the pout upon e a ch purple fold ’ r 1 Let Avon s swan o G oethe pra se betimes .

o f f I , unworthy bard Paris , o fer this sad These childish verses , bouquet at best ; o n B e kind , and speed you your gracious quest ; — L ight o n her stubborn lips and laugh thou Kiss !

IN THE WOODS

S — o r OME , the innocent the lymphatic Find 1n the woods charms languorous or gay ;

. a ! Fresh airs , and odors warm H ppy are they — — Others quail dreamers with fears ecstatic .

! They are happy I , nervous , that a dread V ague and oppressive ever seems to rule , I tremble in the forests like a fool m Who fears an a bush or may fear the dead .

These branches thick , like billows without bound , Where falls black silence and where falls a shade S — till blacker all this mournfulness displayed ,

Fills me with horror , foolish , yet profound .

Summer eves the redness o f the sunsets Is sunk in the gray-blue o f mists they p aint With ﬁre and blood ; the angelus so fai nt

Seems like a plaintive cry o f sad regrets . P o e m s Sa turni ne 67

The winds rise warm and strong ; the ripples race With force renewed where the thi ck leaves are strewn m On the high oaks that seem to i portune ,

Then scatter like a fever into space .

i m o l . s The night comes . The w ﬂies This the ti e

When o n e dream s o f the tales the o ld folks tell .

Yonder , yonder , the quick springs in the dell m Whisper like robbers plotting som e dark cri e .

MARCO 06 HEN Marco passed , the young men ran and turned se e S To her eyes , two odomites where burned L The ﬁres of ove , destroying without grace , ’ — Cold Fri en dship s lowly hut sad dwelling place . all m And around danced perfumes without na e ,

Where souls forever lost were weeping cast . Upon the red gold o f her hair hung fa st m A charm , and from her robe strange music ca e ,

When Marco passed .

When Marco sang , her hands upon the ivory se e Often evoked from depths too black to , m Pri itive tunes , long lost and unprecise ; Her rich voice rising in the p a radise m o f Of a vast sy phony wondrous dream , With ecstasy transported as it spra ng a k n o wn a Tow rd the he vens , all who heard its tang m Of silvery music sounding some vague the e ,

When Marco sang .

W a m hen Marco wept , her tears and wild al r s Seem ed to defy the very sound of a rm s - a m Her blood red lips with deeper c r ine shown , And her desp ai r no hum an soul ha s known ; 6 8 Paul Verlai ne

- As though an oil fed ﬁre that ﬂames on high , Her wrath shown redder as it higher leapt ; S ome lioness , one might have said , that kept

Its forest wrath with ever blazing eye ,

When M arco wept .

é When Marco danced, her silken skirt , moir , Swept like the tides upon a summer day ; And like a lithe bamboo her snowy thigh

Bent with a grace that made her breasts reply. o The lightning ﬂashed ; her marble limbs s free ,

Emphatically cynical , enhanced Their splendors terne : who listened heard entranced n i l t The sound of winds blowing in a tree , \/ When giarco danced .

When Marco slept, what odors rich of amber

Mixed with her flesh , filled and oppressed her chamber . ’ The sheets revealed her back s exquisite line , And in the shadows o f the curtains fine

Her breath a rose , light , rhythmical and slow .

In calm and happy sleep her eyes were kept , And this sweet mystery threw a cha rm that swept

The obj ects vaguely outlined , row on row ,

When Marco slept .

she But when loved , the ﬂoods of luxury ’ O er ran as though a wound , open and free , Threw its red blood in many a sm o k in wave From the all cruel form whose crime o rgav e ’ ’ a And o er the soul s high w lls a torrent came ,

Drowning the thought , sweeping with sad array o n All in its path , then bounding its way As supple a nd devouring as a ﬂa m e

Then frozen lay .

MOONL IGHT

Y s OUR oul is like a landscape always glad , m Peopled by erry maskers with bright eyes , 0 play the l ute and dance yet are half sad

Beneath the t insel of their quaint disguise .

Who sing upon a strangely minor m ode ’ 0 Of love s success and life so portune ,

As they go tripping lightly on t eir road , n lin g g their songs with rays caught from the moon ,

The moonlight rays so sad but O how fair ! a Th t make the drowsy birds dream in their trees , And sob with ecstasy the fountain cle a r

That from its marble bed j ets in the breeze .

PANTOMIME

PIERRO T Clit an der , who ets nothing from , Empti es a ﬂa o n ailing to render — g Thanks and , being practical , cuts the pie .

t o Cassandra , who is nearly lost View , Weeps fo r her di sinhe r1t e d nephew S st ream m . tage tears , that all ignore , with g eye

The rascal , Harlequin , plans to elope — With Columbine a vain a n d foolish hope An d a m then s ucily pirouettes four ti es .

m m t o Colu bine drea s , strangely surprised feel ’ the Emoti on in breeze s soft appeal ,

And voices i n her he a rt . What fooli sh mimes ! [ 7 1 1

MOONL I GHT

Y a a OUR soul is like a landsc pe alw ys glad , a Peopled by m erry m skers with bright eyes , Who play the lute and dance yet are half sa d

Beneath the tinsel of their qu a int disguise .

Who sing upon a strangely minor m ode ’ so Of love s success and life opportune , a As they go tripping lightly on their ro d , a Mingling their songs with r ys caught from the moon ,

The moonlight rays so sad but O how fa ir ! am That m ake the drowsy birds dre in their trees , And so b with ecstasy the fountain cle a r

That from its marble bed j ets in the breeze .

PANTOMIME

PI ERRO T m Clit ander , who gets nothing fro , Empties a ﬂagon— failing to render — a an d a . Th nks , being practic l , cuts the pie

a Cassandr , who is nearly lost to Vi ew , Weeps f o r her disinherited nephew

S a all a . t ge tears , that ignore , with stre ming eye

a The rasc l , Harlequin , plans to elope — With Columbine a vain and foolish hope m And then saucily pirouettes four ti es .

m Colu bine dreams , strangely surprised to feel ’ a Emotion in the breeze s soft ppeal , a ! And voices in her heart . Wh t foolish mimes [ 7 1 1 7 2 Pa ul Verlaine

ON THE G RASS

é — THE Abb wanders . And you , Marquis ,

H ave donned , all awry, your perruque . ee This old wine of Cyprus , I s , — nu ue . Is exquisite less , Camargo , than your q

— o i . s l . My ﬂame Do , mi , , la , s é Abb , your cunning we unveil . — Ladies , I die , indeed, for thee ,

I f in trying to unhook a star I fail . — I o o . — wish t be a little d g today Let each one kiss his shepherdess , and soon One after the other ! Gentlemen— hey ? — — o l . G . ! Do , mi , s Ho l ood evening , M r Moon

THE WALK P AINTED and powdered as in the old pastoral days , o f Frail amid the enormous bows ribbon red , ’ She passes neath the somber bower that gently sways Above a v alk where some o ld moss green seats are sp rea g ff With false a ected ways and playful foolish air , S uch as a petted gaudy parrot loves to wear . Her robe with its long train is blue and her fan bright m Held by slim ﬁngers decked with any a large ring , I s gay with quaint erotic scenes , so vague and light

She . smiles , as in a dream , at all the thoughts they bring — A blonde indeed . The saucy nose with lips to match . h carm i ne Mo u t , body plump , and proud , nor knowing wh a triﬂ e wiser than the beauty-patch

So deftly set beneath the rather silly eye .

74 P a ul Verlaine

m Yes , indeed , thou cruel Cly ene , This sword that in many a combat m a S Has laid so any cipio and Cyrus ﬂat , Will end my life and all its bitter pain !

o f And yet , what need it have I , Who would des cend to the Elysian Fi elds ?

Love , pierced he not my heart with pointed steels When ﬁrst upon me fell your ﬂashing eye ?

THE I NGENUS

THE high heels battled with long skirts — And the uneven earth a breeze unbid S howing a shining limb , too often hid , o f And we , loving this play ﬂirts .

A zealous insect , darting, ﬂies ’ To trouble the beauty neath the branches light ; o f a n And this lightning necks , glowing d white , o u r Dazzled youthful , foolish eyes . — Evening fell a twilight o f dim Fall a o n m m The belles le ned our ar s , drea y and slow , Saying the words so startling and so low m Our souls since then have tre bled to recall .

CORTEGE A MONKEY , beribboned and bland , G oes skipping before with quick pace , As she crumples a kerchief of lace

In the folds of her ﬁnely gloved hand . Fétes Ga lla nt 7 5

a While a sm all negro boy, very bl ck , Holds in his bare a rm s the long train a t o Of her robe , th t he strives maintain ,

Smoothing the wrinkles back . The monkey cares naught but to gaze ’ Intent on the lady s White throat, so Whose contours , dazzling , denote

o ld . A torso , godlike , of days

sh The negro boy, y little Wight , Ofttim es li fts the train r ather high To gaze with mischi evous eye

On that which he dream s o f by night .

She o n goes her way by the stai r , Unheeding the hom age o r gaze a Of these insolent be sts or their ways , — o Disdaining to notice r care .

THE SHELL S E ACH shell , incrusted ,

In the grotto where we knew love , 1t Has s p ecu l1arity .

One ha s the purple o f our souls m o f o u r Robbed fro the blood hearts ,

When I burn and y o u take ﬁre . Another affects your languors allo rs And your p when , wearily,

- You turn from my half mocking eyes .

This o ne counterfeits the grace o n e Of your ear , and that — Your neck pink , short , and plump .

But one amongst them troubles me . Paul Verla ine

SKATING

Y ES , we were dupes , both you and I , o u r o r To have intrigues for u pains .

Madame , such frenzy, by the by , S m o unt1n to Was ummer g our brains .

S pring had , however , I would say, S erved , i f my memory be not slack , To m ystif our little pla But in a ﬂeishi o n not so black !

S For in the pring the air is fresh , And then the budding rose i s sent ; And Love half opens to enmesh

With odors almost innocent .

S In p ring the lilies , too , have thrown The 1r pungent breath upon the morn ; And in the ardent su n is blown

This fresh excitant , newly born .

And then the mocking zephyrs bear efﬂuv iu m A heady strange , That frees the he a rt from thoughts of care

And makes the anxious spirit numb .

That stirs to j oy the senses ﬁve , Transports us to the very skies ; All which alone does not contrive

To render us a bit more wise .

m all Thi s was a ti e with skies clea r , o a ? ( Madame , do y u rec ll those hours )

7 8 Paul Verlaine

’ a Now Mad me , Winter s here , and numb .

Each bettor trem bles for his purse . While here are other sleighs th at com e

And dare dispute with us the course .

f ’ Your two hands in the mu f you ve on , Si a t ﬁrm and safely in your pl ce . Away we go ! and soon Fanchon

Will crown us victors in the race .

FANTASTI CS S CARAMOUCHE and Pulcinella , m Met , by evil circu stance ,

G a 1 o n . esticul te , the r shadows the moon

However , the excellent doctor Of Bologna gathers leisurely

Simples among brown herbs .

While his daughter , piquant beauty , Under the elm boughs stealthily G -n lides , half ude , in quest

o f S Of her beauti ful pirate pain , For whom the languorous nightingale

- Proclaims the passion with head splitting strain .

CYTH ERE

A L IGHT pavilion lends S o r helter where u gladness blends ,

- Fanned by the rose trees , friends . Fetes Gallant 7 9

Odors o f roses faint , wander m m d 1 Thanks to the su mer w ast r , 1th And mix W perfume come from her .

As her eyes foretold ’ Her heart is warm and her li s o e rbo ld e Bestow exquisite fevers , that t y hold .

And L ove crowns all com plete S w ave hunger, sherbet and s eet ’ Keeping the body s curves replete .

AFLOAT

THE sta r o f the shepherd trembles

In the black water , and the pilot S bo x earches the tinder in his pockets .

G o r This i s the moment , entlemen , never, To be audacious , and I put

My two hands everywhere , henceforth .

a ho The chev lier Atys , w scrapes

His guitar , to the ungrateful Chloris k Throws a saucy win .

é E The abb confesses in a low tone gle . And the Viscount grows disorderly , G o f iving the key his heart to everyone .

m However , the oon has arisen , And the ski ff in its brief course ’ G a o e r lides g yly the waters that dream . 8 0 P a ul Verlaine

THE FAUN

AN ancient faun of terra - cotta built L aughs in the center of a plot of green , Pre sagm g W1tho u t doubt some ill result Of those dear moments o f o u r life serene

o n o u o n o u o ld That led me and led y , y Sad pilgrims with the melancholy mien , Unto this hour whose ﬂying footsteps bold G o swirling to the sounding tambourine .

MANDOLINE

o f THE singers serenades , ho And the beauties w listen , Exchange the usu al banter

Under the boughs that glisten .

This is Tireis and this Aminta , Clitan der This the eternal , Thi s is Damis that for many

A cruel o n e has made verses tender .

o f Thei r short vests silk,

Thei r robes with glittering train , o Their elegance , thei r j y ,

And their blue shadows , wane

In the ecstatic whirlwind

Of a moon pink and gray , k And the mandoline tin ling,

With the breezes at play .

8 2 Pa ul Verla i ne

Daily in my thoughts , in my dreams at night,

And, by night and by day, adorable , Madame !

Ah well , at last my body disappears , An d in its place my soul becomes a shade sad That in its turn , amid emotions , m E braces vain and numberless desires , fo r Is lost within your shadow all time .

Till then , consider me your slave , my dear .

m ? M ada e , do all behave themselves with you ? Your parrot , cat , and dog The society Silv ani Is it always pleasant , and this e a Whose bl ck eye I had loved were yours not blue , a m e arbleu l And who , sometimes , would m ke signs , p Is she the trusty friend she was o f o ld?

a a a M d me , an impatient proj ect h unts me . This i s to conquer the whole earth with all

Its treasures rare , to put them at your feet — Unworthy gage to prove m y love the peer Of those most high and celebrated ﬂames Whose ardent hearts have lighted up the past !

Less loved was Cleopatra , by my faith , ! Of Antony and Caesar , than you by me a Do not doubt it , Mad me . I would have fought ! Like Caesar for a smile , O Cleopatra

Like Antony, staked all upon a kiss .

Al to o l . Dear friend, adieu . ready much ta k One reads a letter 1n so short a space 1 It almost seems a waste of t1me to wr te . Fétes G a lla n t

INDOLENTS

BAH ! In spite of zealous destiny ’ — Yo L et s die together shall we ? u and I . — ’ The proposition s rare .

’ — L o n The rare i s good . et s die , my w , Like those in the Decameron ! — H a ! Ha ! Wh at lover ! How bizarre !

— ! Bizarre , I do not know But lover ! L ’ Without guile , assuredly et s have it over — ! Dying, if you wish together

’ — Si r t o o , indeed you re far bold ,

o f . And then o n do not love , but talk gold ’ b — if o Let s just e still y u would rather .

Do rim en e But Tireis and his , Th1s evening s 1tt1ng on the green l a hm 1 1 Near by a u g g rust e pa r ,

Made this unp a rdonable mistake ’ Of hindering death for love s dear sake . Ha ! Ha ! Wh a t lovers ! How bizarre !

COL UMBINE L EANDE R , the fop , Pierrot with a hop

That would , - a Flea like , cle r a bush ; Cassandra ’neath her plush Drawn hood ; Paul Verlai ne

And then Harlequin , Rascal with a grin G rotesque , m Costu ed like a fool , With glowing eyes that His masque ;

— so l Do , mi , , fa , mi ,

All these people ﬂ ee , Or worse ;

Laugh and dance as well , B efore a saucy belle

Perverse ,

Whose eyes m align ’ Like a cat s eyes shine , Guarding the while Her ch a rm s and crying Down “Paws down !” with a frown

And sm ile . — These , they go perforce , Sad , insipi d course

Of stars . Oh ! Tell m e toward

What fell , untoward Disasters

The implac able child Le a ds her beguiled Young troupes ?

With li fted skirt in hand ,

Ah , whither with her band Of dupes ?

8 6 Paul Verlaine

Half close your eyes ,

Cross your arms on your breast ,

With the heart sleeping ,

Peacefully rest .

Welcome the breathing wind That is rippling so sweet The waves o f red grasses

That move at your feet .

And , when the dim twilight S olemnly falls , Voice o f our sorrow

The nightingale calls .

COLLOQUY SENTIMENTAL

IN the old park solitary and cold — They pass two forms that loved o f o ld.

Thei r eyes are dead and their lips are dumb ,

I f they speak , none hears the words that come .

In the old park solita ry and vast

Two specters have evoked the past .

— o u r — Do you remember old love Yet ,

Why wish me to recall it ? I forget .

—Your hea rt beats only to my name ? this would I

know . And do you see my soul in dreams —No !

- — a Ah , the good days the j oy unspe kable ’ - When our young lips were met . It s possible . ' Fetes G allan t 8 7

— a Oh , they were blue , the heavens , and hope w s high ! — Now hope has vanished , toward the blackened sky .

Thus through the tangled weeds they walk,

And save the night alone , none hears them talk .

THE morning sun makes warm and golden , too ,

The wheat and rye still wet wi th early dew .

The heavens keep thei r freshness o f the night . o u t One wanders , no other task in sight , Save by the river ’s tossing sedge of gold ’ a To trace a grassy path ne th alders old .

The air is fresh . A bird goes ﬂitting b S - it s o r ome hedge fruit in beak wisp o rye .

And in the stream its shadow follows fast .

Naught else .

The dreamer loves this landscape vast, Fo r the soft light has suddenly caressed His dream o f happiness and blessed The charm ing mem ories a maiden brings ; V ision in white that scintillates and sings . And what he dreams perhaps would make one smile m The sweet Co panion he has found at last, hi s fo r a s Whose soul soul weeps days go past .

A LL grace and all light ,

In the ﬂush of her sixteen years , She has the innocence bright

Of a child without fears .

Her eyes are full of youthful ﬁre ,

Innocent yet wise , that nothing miss ; Awakening the strange desire m Of an i material kiss . 92 Paul Verlai ne

so Her hand , little and so light , n o A humming bird within it could t hide , t hO e o f Cap ures , without p ﬂight , a f o . The he rt in secret , short pride

She is intelligent as well ; An d with a noble soul to meet all need . as she As pure i s spiritual . ’ she tw And what says ere well to heed .

I f sometimes foolish j okes amuse , And make her laugh with hea rtless glee ; — Yet will she be herself a Muse Forgiving to the point of amity ;

—~ ? Even to the point o f love who knows Maybe ,

Out of regard for a poor bard with pleading eyes , see Who begs , beneath her window, as you — Audacious o ne a worthy prize .

! Indeed , of his song good or bad

Yet , proof sincere , whose every look reveals sad Without false shame or heart unduly ,

The sweet discomfort that a lover feels .

I - N her ruche bordered dress of green and gray,

One day in June when I was full of care , She sm ilin came before my eyes , quick fair ,

s . I who admired , nor feared her ambu gay

She came and went , returned a while , and spoke

Delicate and grave , i ronical and tender ;

And on my soul so full of visions somber ,

A ray from her all j oyous presence broke .

94 Paul Verlaine

I wish to walk straightforward now through Life , w My task in Vie , nor stepping once aside ;

Without remorse or envy, without stri fe ,

Nor fearing aught , with Her close at my side .

And I will sing my songs along the route su ﬂi ce To shorten the rough road they will . She , too , will listen , pleased without a doubt ,

And truly this will be my Paradise .

B EFORE thou takest ﬂight, pale S tar of dawn sublime , — A thousand quail

S . inging, singing in the thyme

Turn toward the poet , mark His eyes how full of love ; — The lark

Mounts to the sky above .

m Turn , thy loving glance e ploy, It drowns the dawn in blue ; — What j oy Amidst the ripe wheat wet with dew !

And make my thoughts to shine ! Yonder , O far away — How ﬁne

The dew that glistens on the hay .

so In the sweet troubled dream , chaste n Of my dear sleeping o e . — Haste , haste , ’ n For here s the golden su . The G o od So ng 95

THE white moon Shines in the wood ; From each branch Comes a vo 1ce

Under the boughs .

- O well beloved .

The pool reﬂects ,

Profound mirror , The silhouette Of the black willow

Where the wind weeps .

o n . Dream , this is the hour

A vast and tender Peacefulness Seems to descend From the ﬁ rm am ent

That a sta r tints .

This is the exquisite hour .

THE landscape from the curtained window square S peeds swi ftly past while all the wide plains wear , a With the water, the whe t , the trees , and sky , — An aspect str a nge a whirlpool rushing by ; ’ ’ a o er The telegr ph s slim poles go tilting ,

With all thei r wires quite like a music score . 96 Paul Verlaine

A smell of burning coal and hissing steam . A noise as of a thousand chains that seem

To bind a thousand giants , lashed , that howl ;

- And then the long drawn hooting , like an owl .

Ah , what to me all this , since in my eyes And j oyous heart a white -robed vision lies ; S ince her sweet voice for me resounds once more , m And since a Na e , well loved, blends with the roar Like a smooth pivot that might well reproach

The brutal rumble of the noisy coach .

A S AINT in her bright halo , A Chatelaine in her tower ; All that the human word may know ’ Of grace and love s sweet power . The note of golden splendor

Of a horn in woodland ways ,

Linked with pride , deep and tender,

Of queens of other days . With this the glowing sense Of triumph when she sm iled ; — The blush the swan -like innocence

Half woman and half child .

Face pearl and pink , that brings To miInd some fair patrician dame I see , hear all these proud things

In her Carlovingian name .

98 Paul Verla i ne

Then , hard and cold , a barbed iron that stings , Swi fter than bird or bullet or the thin ’ S se a harp south wind tipped with a ﬁsh s ﬁn ,

Here comes , like to an arrow, the suspicion

S o ne . hot by the archer Doubt , the evil

? And i s this true as touched by haunting fears , I o f read her letter , my eyes full tears .

Her letter , with the sweet avows it brings ; Is she not then distraught by other things ? ? Who knows While time for me , slow and morose , it s Flows like a stream along muddy course ,

Perhaps her mouth a happy smile begets , — — Perhaps she may be glad perhaps forgets ? e - And I r rea d her letter . Vague regrets !

S THI hard proof soon will have an end, — S . mile , O my heart your fortunes mend

a o Now they are passed , the d ys f fears , — When I was sad sad unto tears .

Count not the moments , O my soul ,

Time yet must take a little toll .

’ The bitter words , I ve killed them all ,

Dark specters banished past recall .

My eyes like weary exiles are That onl y see her from a far ;

My ears are hungry but to hear He r golden voice so soft and clear ; The G o o d So ng 99

And all my being , all my love , My only thought and dream doth move

M e to acclaim the happy day When I shall see my ﬁa ncee !

G O o n - , song, wings Wind blown , An d tell her with thy art : A j oyous light has shown

Within my faithful heart .

Cast out with sainted ray, ’ Love s shadows all have ﬂ ed ;

Within my heart is day ,

Pride , fear , and doubt , are dead .

a nd Long silent , dumb , dark , Hearest thou ? The gladness rings Like the swi ft-winged lark k That in the clear s y sings .

o G then , my song, today , ’ Thy voice she ll not disdain . ’ Welcomed , she ll bid thee stay,

Since y o u return again .

AS o u r yesterday they talked , elders wise , My eyes kept ever seeking your dear eyes ;

And your soft glance wa s often toward me thrown o n The while the stu pid talk ﬂowed gravely . 1 00 Pa ul Ve rla ine

o f B enea th the banal sense phrases caught , My errant love kept ever near your thought ;

And when you spoke , as though without design , — My quick ear caught your secret that was mine .

For the voice , like the eyes of This that makes ad o r You s j oyous , a dear secret takes

f o u e ssa And , spite of every e fort y y, G m 0t ives your e otions to the light day .

Now , yesterday I parted , drunken quite v am Is this a hope that my heart holds tight , — A vain hope , false and sweet fain would I know ? so — 1t Nay, nay , it is not i s not so !

’ 3 T HE ﬁreside and the lamplight level ray, m Drea ing , hand raised to brow at close of day Eyes that m eyes beloved their image se e

Hour when the books are closed and steams the tea . S ’ weetness to feel , at last the evening o er , The charmed fatigue and waiting we adore o f Of nu tial shadows and the sweet night . Oh ! All these j oys my tender dreams invite

Without release , though vain delay bespeaks , o f Mad of the months and furious the weeks .

I 02 P aul Verlai ne

THE noise of taverns and the black mud of the

sidewalks , The torn leaves ﬂu tt eri ng in the wintry air ; o f The omnibus , a storm rusty iron and mud o n That creaks , unpleasantly, its four grinding wheels And rolls its slowly burning eyes of green and red ; The workm en going to their clubs and smokingg each ’ His short clay pipe neath the very nose o f the police ; i ri in The p p g roofs , the sweating walls , the slippery aik w s ,

The asphalt bulging and the ﬁlthy, muddy rills S — uch is my route and at the end is paradise .

XVII

I S so ? it not Despite what others say ,

Who merely envy us our present j oys , o We two will go with humble pride u r way .

Is it not so ? We take the modest path , m Happy and slow , that smiling Hope e ploys ,

Unmindful of the ways the cold world hath .

Lost in our love , as in some leafy dell , Our hearts will be in their deep tenderness

Two nightingales that sing the day farewell .

As for the World , though it be fair or dark , ? What matters it Perhaps it may caress ,

Perhaps in harming take us for the mark . The Go o d So ng 1 03

And thus united by the ties most dear ,

Clad in an armor that can all withstand ,

We two shall smile and , smiling, nothing fear .

o f Unmindful save what the Fates bestow , o u r 1n We two shall walk pathway hand hand , With that high hope and youthful soul aglow — Of those who truly love i s it not so ?

XVIII

THESE stormy times serve to remind That marriage of the souls should bind

Our hearts 1n happy unison . And 1n this hour o f sad unrest ’ Twill put o u r courage to the test ’ n n e To bear lpife s burdens o e by o .

’ And , facing this , twere well we two Strive but to keep this thought l n view a To hold ourselves , thrice h ppy pair ,

In ways upright, conduct austere , So that o u r love shall always wear

A proud and a deﬁant air .

Why should I speak o f this meanwhile ? O thou the goodness— thou the smile !

Hast thou not counsel , too , that ranks ’ — O er mine most loyal , strong and brave ?

Whose laughter mocks my visage rave ,

And still to whom my heart cries . hanks ! 1 04 Pa ul Verlai ne

S O , it shall be a day o f summer , dear , s n The glowing u , accomplice of my j oy, ’ His rays , mid silks and satin , will employ

To make your beauty still more rare , more clear .

k The far blue s y outspread like some high tent , Shall tremble sumptuously in lengthening folds Above our happy brows whose pallor holds

Expectancy, with j oy and gladness blent .

And when the evening com es with its sweet air

That loves to play, caressing , in your veils , The peaceful stars that rise above the dales

Will smile upon the happy wedded pair .

I WENT by paths where danger hides ,

Uncertain windings , far withdrawn ; 1 But your dear hands were my sole gu des .

’ I f o er the eastern sky was drawn o One feeble glow f coming day , f Your glance made morning o the dawn .

’ No noise to cheer the traveler s way, dm S so u n . ave his slow footsteps , g far “ — ” Your voice said : Courage and away .

My fearful heart no longer gay ! Wept with me o n the road , alas

But love , delicious vanquisher,

Our j oyful meeting brought to pass .

ROMANCES WITHOUT WORDS

SANS PARO LES)

FORGOTTEN AI RS

L e fve nt da ns la p lai ne

Susp e nd so n halei ne .

( Fav art . )

S THI is the languorous ecstasy , m This is the a orous fatigue , i Th s is the wood that rej oices , i When , n the hush of the breeze Sin from the trembling trees

The c o ir of little voices .

m O the frail and fresh mur ur ,

This warble growing ﬁrmer , This resembles the sweet cry in - Of the w d shaken grass ,

Or , under the waters that pass , ’ The slow turning pebbles low sigh .

And this soul that laments — Plaintive intense , ? Is this not ours , ﬁlled with care

Is this not mine , say , and thine ,

This sad anthem divine , Humble and low on the air ?

I V G w A UELY guess , across a murmur dra n , The so un 1 ! d of vo ces , long since still , alas An d hi s ss in t glimmer , fai r musici ans pa ,

th bo a u w . And love , e sym l of fut re da n [ r09 ]

I I O Paul Ve rlai ne

in And soul and heart, that blend mad desire , S has eem like an eye that a vision double , o n o f Where trembles , a weary day trouble , ’ he i T haunt ng tune of every poet s lyre . — O death this death that must alone endure ,

This love that goes in fear that once was ours . o ld The young hours balancing with the hours , ! And dying , gently swinging, slow and sure

I l leut do u ce m e nt sur la v i p lle .

(Arthur Rimbaud . )

IT weeps in my heart o n As it rains the town . What is this languor That weighs my heart down ?

Soft drip o f the rain

On the roofs and the ground , For a heart that i s weary O sweet is the sound !

It weeps without right

- And heart sick is my song . What ! Is there no treason ? This sorrow is wrong !

n o t And , knowing why ,

It is well the worst pain , Without love o r hate

That my heart has such pain . Rom a nces Wi tho ut Wo rds I I I

’ So n o e ux i m o rtun d u n clav eci n j y , p ,

e . s o no r . ( Petrus Borel )

THE piano , kissed by a hand soft and frail ,

Shines vaguely in the twilight pink and gray. ’ Whilst lightly as a bird s wing , in a dale ,

An old tune , very feeble , sweet and gay ,

Circles discretely, ere its faint notes fail ,

The room perfumed by Her since that far day.

What is this sudden rocking in m y heart This stirring o f my inmost soul profound ? What wouldst thou o f me ? ghostly song thou art !

What is thy wish , thou sweet uncertain sound ,

That , dying, seeks the window to depart

The garden window, open near the ground ?

BEHOLD the dog o f Je an Nivelle ’ Th at snaps beneath the sentry s eye The cat of the good dam e Michel ran o is-les- as- a F g b bleus l ughs to cry .

’ While for the public scribe s concern ,

The moon her misty light lets fall , Where Angelique with Medor turn o n o ld To deepest green their wall .

L a é Here comes Ram e , a bold knight , ’ Who a s a swears King s soldier will . - m Beneath his coat , ill fa ed and white , His heart no jo y could ever fi ll I I 2 P a ul Verlaine — Because the bakeress She ? For shame ! Lu stu cru o ld Bernant , her man , H a s often crowned , betimes , her ﬂame D o m i nus v o biscu m / Children ,

! Hold In her long robe all in blue , - a That makes frou frou in s tin clear, — Thl s i s a courtes an p arbleu / ’ o u Twere well that y should praise her chai r .

o r Be he philosopher knave , This gold in heaps doth make o n e cross ; S uch riches , insolent , might pave The world with notes by Monsieur Loss !

S o u top , y rascal , hold your place , you L m a é a ittle shop n , little abb , g y ; Little bard who ever tries to woo The rhym e that always goes astray !

’ at However, here s the night hand And never wea ry all the day an d a With being innocent bl nd , - - - a Francois les b as blues still 15 g y .

H O W sad— sad how my heart today, o f Because One so far away .

’ Fo r a m me , no b l can e er console , 1l f Who made an ex e o my soul .

For me whose soul , for me whose hea rt ,

Willed we should ever live apart .

1 1 4 Paul Verlaine

- You broken voiced crow , Yo u meager wolves , too , In the bitter north wind What will happen to you ?

In the interminable Weariness o f the land The uncertain snow

Shines like the sand .

The nighti ngale fr o m the height of a bra nch l o o ki n do wn thi nks to , g , h H h av e falle n i n the r iv er . e i s a t t e s u m m i t o a n o a k e t ha th he e ar f , y f of drowni ng .

( Cyrano de Bergerac . )

TH E o f shadow trees in the vaporous stream , fog

kissed ,

Fading , di es like the mist ; o f Whilst in the shady depths the real branches , above ,

Mourns and com plains the dove .

How in this landscape vague , O traveler pale , m Thou too art irrored , frail ;

Whilst in the highest leaves , with mournful sound , Sadly thy hopes are drowned ! ' Ro m ances Wi tho u t Wo rds 1 1 5

BELG IAN LANDSCAPES

Co nqu estes da Roy Vi e illes st es ( e am p ) .

VVA L CO URT

0 THE charming B ricks and tiles ! Fo r the lovers ,

Little aisles .

Hops and vines , L eaves and ﬂowers . Fo r a fr nk drinkers ,

Shady bowers .

m Beer and cla ors , Taverns clear ; To all sm okers

Servants de a r .

G ay highro a ds

And stations near .

Good wandering Jews , a ! Wh t cheer , what cheer

CHARLE ROI

IN the bl a ck grass o The Kobolds g . The wind profo u nd

Must weep , I know . 1 1 6 Pa ul Verla ine

What is this scent ?

The oats whistle , And bush and thistle S trike those who pass .

More hovels than ’ Fine homes , tis said . What horizons Of forges red !

What does o n e smell ?

The depots thunder ,

The eyes wonder , Where ’s Charleroi ?

Sinister odors ! a Ah , wh t i s this , Like a sistrum ’s Noisy kiss ?

Hold your breath ! No w all is brutal ! The sweat of men The cries of metal !

In the bla ck gra ss

The Kobolds go . The wind profound

Must weep , I know . r I 8 P aul Verlaine — Of the R0yer - Collards go

On their way toward the chateau . Would it were my route !

a The old ch teau is all in white , it s With , at side , the somber light n Of the setting su .

Fields around . Here all is blest , Oh ! that here our love could nest

When o u r day is done .

é Ca f of the Young Fox , 1 2 August , 8 7 .

HORSES OF WOOD

P a r Sa i nt- Gille , Vi e ns- n o us-en , M o n agi le

Alez a n .

( V. Hugo . )

TURN , turn , wooden horses , turn . — Turn a hundred times a thousand times m The hautboy sounds , the usic chimes ! Turn , turn , wooden horses , turn — The nurses f at the soldiers gay

' G o whi rli ng round with happy smile ; In Cam bre ’s wood this is the style

Two masters fo r each prancing bay .

o f Turn , horses thei r heart, turn round ; Fo r here the watching sharper sta nds With twinklin eye and cunning hands ; g ’ Turn to the piston s boastful sound . Ro m a nces Wi tho u t Words I 1 9

It m akes one tipsy thus to spin On horses with such crazy tread ; m Upsets your sto ach and your head ,

Both good and bad , without , within .

Turn , wooden horses , speed away . No need to use the spurs o n y o u two To make you gallop , by two ; o f Turning without the hope hay .

Haste , horses of their soul , for here The twilight deepens into night ; And dove and pigeon will unite

Far ~ f ro m madame and from the fair .

Turn , turn , the sky in velvet sheen And golden stars is slowly dressed ; ’ The lover s p a rting kiss is pressed m Turn to the sounding ta bourine .

MALINES

a THE winds that tow rd the meadows ﬂy , Would pick a quarrel with the vanes Upon the roof of purple Slate The chate au o f some magistrate ’ How pleasing to the traveler s eye !

Like scenes from fairyland we pass Where ash - trees form a leafy bower o n And , outlined the distant plain , a Sa o f Are v st haras ripe grain ,

Al falfa , clover and white grass .

Our train , that speeds in silence , flies

Along the peace ful shady lanes . I 2 0 P aul Verlaine

The cattle sleep . Repose , sweet kine , Where the wide plain extends its line

Beneath the vaguely tinted skies .

o n We glide , without a murmur , ; i s Each coach like a chamber, where One speaks lo w and looking through w The windo we enj oy this View , én lo Made to the wish of F e n .

WATE R COLORS

GREEN

H ERE are the fruits , ﬂowers , leaves , and branches meet ;

And then here is my heart fo r your delight . so Oh , tear it not with your white hands sweet ; I m m would these hu ble gifts ight charm your sight .

I m o - co e to y u , my fever heated brow S wept by the morning wind , all wet with dew .

Oh , at your feet my weary form allow ,

There but to rest and there to dream by you .

On your young breast let rest my aching head

That rings with your last kisses , warmly pressed ;

Until the tempest pass , on that fair bed ,

m e a o u . Oh , let sleep little , while y rest

SP L EEN

THE roses were all red

And the ivy was all black .

Dear , i f you but turn your head ,

All my despairs com e back .

1 2 2 Paul Verlaine I Ah , remember the old days ,

Those hours , and all her gracious ways .

i s . This the best , that with me stays

’ Let s dance a 11g !

1 2 6 P a ul Verlai ne

When the friendless were sheltered m a spirit benign ,

When study was followed , and prayer , as it were meet .

When poet and doctor simply and honestly m m o f m Co uned with the fervor hu ble novices , o ce s Serving at Mass and singing the ﬂi .

m a a And , the springti e come , h ving c re only To go in Auteuil to gather lilies and roses G o d G . Like aro , praising , who all disposes

NO ! ’Twas Gallican— Jansenist—this century glad ! m Toward the Middle Ages , enor ous and delicate . I would my weary heart 1n grief might navigate

Far from these days o f carnal j oy and pleasures sad.

King, politician , monk , artisan and chemist ;

The architect, soldier , doctor and advocate . ! What time O that my shipwrecked heart , once

more elate , ! Might feel this a rdent supple force , so sadly missed

I b ad And there that part , in some way, with the kings ;

Or elsewhere , no matter , save the thing were vital ; I a That were as a s int and good , thinking high things ,

In that great moral time of high theology, G o f uided by the unique folly the Cross ,

Up on your wings of rock , O foolish Cathedral ! Wisdom 1 2 7

0 G o d , MY , thou hast wounded me with love

And the wound 1s vibrating still .

G o d . O my , thou hast wounded me with love

m G o d I am O y , stricken with thy fear , And the burn that quivers is yet here

o d I . O my G , am stricken with thy fear

G o d I a O my , have known th t all is vile , And thy glory in m e i s installed

G o d I . O my , have known that all is vile

Drown my soul in the ﬂoods of thy Wine , Found my li fe in the Bread of thy table :

Drown my soul in the ﬂ oods o f thy Wine .

13 I Here my blood that have not poured , Here 18 my ﬂ esh unworthy o f suffering : I s I Here my blood that have not poured .

1s Here my forehead that only has blushed , Fo r a stool for Thy feet adorable ha Here 1s my forehead that only s blushed .

a Here are my hands that h ve not toiled , Fo r the ardent coals and the incense rare a Here are my hands th t have not toiled .

13 a 1n Here my heart that has be t but vain , a a To palpitate on the thorns of C lv ry . 13 Here my heart that has beat but in vain . 1 2 8 P aul Ve rlai ne

o Here are my feet , frivol us voyagers , To run to the cry o f thy grace :

Here are my feet , frivolous voyagers .

Here is my voi ce , noise shameful and lying, For the reproaches of Penitence

Here is my voice , noise shameful and lying .

Here are my eyes , lighted with error , To be put o ut by tears and prayers

Here are my eyes , lighted with error .

Al G o d o f as , Thou , oblation and pardon , What is the depth of mine i ngrat1tu de ! G o d Alas , Thou , of oblation and pardon .

G o d G o d o f of terror and sanctity , A las , this black abyss of my crime G o d o f terror and G o d o f sanctity

G o d o f Thou , of peace , j oy, and of happiness ,

All my fears , all my ignorance

G o d o f . Thou , peace , of j oy, and o f happiness

Thou knowest all this , all this , a And that I am poorer th n any one .

Thou knowest all this , all this .

I G o d I . But thi s that am , my , give you

H OPE shines as doth a wisp of straw in the stable . Why fearest thou the drunken wasp ’s wild foolish ﬂight ?

1 3 0 P au l Verlai ne I Am too early born , or late ? What has the world fo r me to do ? — O My pain is deep , all of you , G Pray for poor aspard and his fate .

A G REAT weariness Falls on my li fe : S leep , all hope , S ! leep , all stri fe

I se e nothing more . I lose the mem ory

Of bad and o f good . O the sad history !

I am a cradle A hand may balance

In a black cave . S ! ilence , silence

THE sky is j ust beyond the roof S so o blue , calm ; A tree -top j ust beyond the roof

Rocks its slow palm .

The chim e in the sky that I see Distantly rings ; A bird on the tree that I see

Plaintively sings . Wisdo m 1 3 1

G o d G o d My , my , but li fe is there , Tranquil and sweet ; This pe aceful murmur that I hear Comes from the street !

ho What have you done , you w stand here , In te a rs and ruth ? o u ho Say , what have you done , y w are here , With your lost youth ?

I KNOW not why

My bitter spirit , ’ With troubled wing a n d mad ﬂies o e r the sea ;

m a m ~ Drea s th t to e are dear ,

On frightened pinions ﬂy, h o n . ? My love beats the billows W y , O why

G ull , with melancholy ﬂight ,

My sad thought follows the sea . Balanced when the storm winds ﬂee ; ’ o er Dipping the hollows white . G ull , with melancholy ﬂight .

Drunk with the sun

And liberty, ’ a An instinct guides it onw rd o er the deep . m The su mer breezes free , ’ o ne O er the crimson waves , each ,

- Carry it softly in a warm half sleep .

Sa c d, with what sadness it ries !

The distant pilot , listening , fears .

It ﬂ oats , dives , and disappears , Then with a wounded wing will rise — To wheel and then more sadly cries . 1 3 2 P aul Verlai ne

I know not why My bitter spirit ’ With troubled wing so mad ﬂies o er the sea ; m Drea s that to me are dear,

On frightened pinions ﬂy, h My love beats on the billows . Why, O w y ?

THE sound of a horn sobs toward the wood , An orphan strain that wanders at will , m Coming and dy g under the hill ,

Where soft winds sigh m an errant mood .

The soul of a wolf weeps in thi s strain , That mounts to the slowly setting sun ; And sorrow a nd pleasure blend as o n e

In a ravishing tune with a sa d refrain .

And to heighten this languorous plaint ,

In long white streaks , like arrows of lint , sk From a crimson y falls the silent snow .

An d the strain ha s the air of a sigh so Of autumn , soft it seems and low ,

Across the sleeping landscape sadly spent .

— O UR bodies ho w they make m y heart expand With languorous pity and com p a ssion deep ! ! w o f Ah Al ays when in somber depths sleep , — The covers stripe the skin oppress the hand .

Peeved at the fevers o f returning day ; Your body w a rm with sweat that slowly drie s

1 34 Paul Verlaine

T HE se a i s fairer Than cathedrals are ; A tender nurse

That soothes when all things mar . The se a where prays ! Our virgin queen , M ari e

She has the gi fts So terrible and sweet . She pardons all

When cruel billows beat . This vast exp a nse o Is full f kindly ways .

to o How patient , ,

When the loud tempest rings . A friendly breath Upon the water sings All ye who hope

In vain , die without pain .

’ Then , neath the skies , o f A vast expanse sheen . How blue she i s

Pink , gray and living green

Fai rest of all ,

And better far than we . OF O LD AND RECENTLY

ET NAG UERE)

1 3 8 Pa ul Verlai ne

And now where ﬂ ashing lightning takes its ﬂight , His pale blouse has the air as o f a shroud ; m With mouth agape , he see s to shriek aloud

Against the gnawing worm that holds him quite .

o f And with the ﬂ apping some bird of night,

He makes with sleeves that ﬂutter long and white ,

The foolish signs none answer from the earth .

H i s e es are holes that burn with sulphurous ﬂame , And rightful are the powdered cheeks that frame f The bloodless face and pointed nose o death .

KALEI DOSCOPE

To G erm ai n No uv eau

I o f N a street in the heart a village of dreams , o n e This shall seem as long since , when lived in the past : For an instant quite vague and yet gripping one

fast . ! Oh , this sun through the rising mist darting its beams

sea ! Oh , this cry on the and this voice in the wood ’ This shall seem as though all lay afar from one s range ; An awakening slowly from cycles o f change And with all clearer shown and with all understood

In this street in the heart of the magical town ,

Where the organs at dusk grind the jigs with a sweep , é o n Where caf s shall have the dressers asleep , o cats An d the bands of musicians stroll noisily down

Yet so sad will this seem as almost to benumb ,

With the tears ﬂowing warm that the cheek softly feels , Of O ld and Re ce ntly 1 39

With the laughter that sobs in the noise o f the wheels Invocations that rise to the deaths yet to come ;

With the words very old , like bouquets pale and dead ; Where the noise o f the public dance rings to arouse ; And the widows with copper bound close to their brows All these peasants that cut through the crowd that is led

To stroll there , and who talk with the youthful black

guards , With the o ld men all m arked with a shameful

disease , b - o n e However , not far in the y path sees

From some public fete rise the bursting petards .

m o n e And all this , as though drea ing , wakens to see , And then sleeping again falls to dreaming alway m Of the selfsa e enchantment , the selfsame display , S m — — é o f o u mer the grass noise moir the ﬂight f a bee .

INTERIOR

0° ITH large and somber folds an ample tapestry Descending with a sheer and stately em p ha 3 1s — Along the four gre a t walls o f a retreat abyss o f Mysterious shadows wed with luxury .

Old furniture and dazzling stuffs that faded be ; a c - An n ient bed , half seen , and vague as a regret ; And over all the se al o f age a n d secret set S m n o e allegory through whose depths o e cannot see .

c — No pi tures , books , no piano o r blossoms light m m Only in the deep gloo upon the cushions . du b , a an A ghostly woman sitting , cl d in blue d white , 1 40 Paul Verlai ne Who sadly smiles— witness disquieting—where j oin S e 1t halam 1u m low echoes of a song, p , o e 1o n benz o m In an bs ss made of musk and of .

ART OF POETRY

To Charles Mo ri ce

C S HOO E the music before all things , And for this the Uneven prefer ;

More vague , more soluble in the air , o With nothing that weighs r that clings .

Also , one should fail not to choose

His words in a contemptuous way . a Nothing is more dear than song gray,

Where the Indecisive and the Precise fuse .

This , the bright eyes behind the veils .

This , the full day trembling at noon .

This , the warm autumn sky aswoon , a1l Or when the blue starry host p rev s.

For we wish but the Nuance to adorn ,

Not C olor , nothing but va gueness and cloud . ! Oh The Nuance alone , betrothed , endowed ! Dream to the dream , ﬂute to the horn

S hun the Epigram , the assassin , The cruel Wit and the Laugh impure ;

For the Heavens weep , nor will endure

This vile garlic from the kitchen .

Take Eloquence and wring its neck , ’ And twill strengthen your verse often -time To hold in leash the enterprising Rhym e

That ru ns away and often , without check .

1 42 Paul Verlai ne

ALLEGOR'Y

To J ules Vale do n

D S S E POTI C , heavy ummer , with a languid sweep , L m a ike so e bored king w tching a tortured victim cry, Stretches itself beneath the white and ardent sky m And yawns . Far fro his work the toiler lies asleep .

m m Weary, the orning lark du b silence seems to keep . to o n No cloud , no breath of air , naught seems stir high To place a wrink l e where smooth depths o f azure li e

Unmoved , and silence ends in silence vast and deep .

Even the grasshoppers have felt the heavy spell .

In their straight beds of stones , uneven , in the dell ,

The little babbling brooks , half dry, have ceased to

ﬂow .

Incessantly the surge of sultry light thrown back

Luminously extends its ﬂux and reﬂux slow .

And here and there are ﬂitting wasps , yellow and black .

THE INN

' To J ean Mo re as

0 b e ° HITE walls and roof of red , this is the Inn , 1 n gn ,

Set by the dusty road that makes our poor feet bleed .

Blue wine , good bread , for passport not the slightest need “ G ay little inn with Bonheur on the swinging sign . Of O ld a nd Re ce ntly 1 43

Here thou canst smoke , and sing , and sleep , for all is

thine . hi s The host is an o ld soldier , and wife can feed m f And wash and co b ten scru fy urchins gone to seed , o And talk f love and ease and never once repine .

its The kitchen , with low black roof where roosts the

hen , Its chromos Maleck Adel and The Three Wise ” Men , m Welcomes you with the perfu e of good cabbage soup .

Do you not hear ? This is the pot that burn s a lay ’ With the clock s ticktacking pulse . And , if you stoop ,

An open window shows the landscape , far away .

CI RCUM SPE CTION

’ ’ To G ast o n Se ne chal

G IVE ’ me your hand , breathe softly here , let s ﬁnd a seat Under this giant tree where light winds die away ’ a In broken sighs th t ﬂutter neath the branches gray ,

Bathed in the soft caressing moonlight pale and sweet .

Sit still , and toward our knees let fall o u r eyes . dis cre et , — And think of nothing only dream . Give them their

way,

The happiness that ﬂies , and love that will not stay . ’

Our hair , an owl s wing touches in our calm retreat .

- u s . a n d Let forget to hope But wise self contained , Our souls should hold the spell and this that has re mained m so Fro the serene death of the sun , still and deep . 1 44 Pa ul Verlai ne

In silence let us dream in this nocturnal charm . It i s not well to trouble in his quiet sleep o f The god nature , mute , and yet so full of harm .

VE RSES TO BE SLANDERED

h To C arles Vig ni er .

H IS ’ T evening leaning o er your sleeping form , dear o n e ; Your body lying chastily on my humble bed ; As ho one w ponders over something he has read , sa su n ! I gazed , and w that all is vain beneath the

o n e ! And ah , that should live , what marvel , ﬁnely done We are so like the ﬂowers where fold on fold is spread !

O thought bewildering , that nearly turns the head ! S ! leep , poor one , sleep Through fear for you my sleep

is gone .

S o u m orrow of loving y , y frail love , breathing low , o n n As e breathes o that fateful day when he must go . L — ’ ips dumb and cold life waiting at death s portal .

O mouth that laughs in dream upon my mouth , and waits The other more ferocious lau h with which it mates !

! . ? Oh , wake and tell me quick T e soul , is it immortal

1 46 P a ul Verlai ne

’Twas shortly a fter we had had the Siege and most “ ” Of country houses had been leveled to the ground .

Others were building up like toy homes , round on round ; And some had cannon balls imbedded in the plaster : A I F I A T And thus inscribed SOUVEN R O TH E D S S ER .

TH E POET AND TH E M USE O CHAMBER , have you kept their foolish spec

ters grim , l Where fa ls the gloom , and , save the spider , naught is heard ? 0 m cha ber, have you kept those ﬁgures vagu ely blurred ,

Traced by the dirty walls and scattered scratches , dim ?

1c l F Furnished chamber, that recoils from all of these In this dryp lay o f distance to the visage stirred so Of memories of many fateful things occurred , — Do they regret those nights those nights o f Hercules ?

a sa Interpret as you ple se , it i s not that, I y Yo o f u will not guess my meaning , folk good intent .

I say to you that all your thoughts are far away.

m 1 1 l O cha ber that takes ﬂight 1 rays so sad y spent , Yo u ! a only know Perh ps it is not past your ken , m o u r What arriage nights Shall have deﬂowered nights , since then ! Of O ld a nd Re ce ntly 1 47

A ROGUE

' To J e a n Mo re as

’ 0 o f a - - a ° ITH the eyes a de th s head , skull m m a That the moon akes e ger and thin , — All m y past let us say all my remorse

m m m e . Fro y window mocks , within

o f m an a With the voice an old f iling fast , o n a As e hears at a the ter , — All my rem orse let us say all my past

Mumbles a tral ala bitter .

o f o n With the ﬁngers , green , a corpse a gibbet , A fool frets a wheezy guitar o n Dancing on the future , exhibit ,

With an elasticity rare .

! Old rogue , begone I love not this at all , a Cease your fool songs and d nces gay . “ He answers thus : This is less farcical ’ ” a Th n you re inclined to think today .

a s a But , to your concern , O sweet Kn ve , pish ! ’ a : This much , at least, I d h ve you know ’ I m mindful but this far , that , i f you wish , — u — Why , clear o t go to Jericho 1 4 8 Pa ul Verlai ne

MADRIGAL

Y O U madden me these days of autumn pale and

white ,

Because within your eyes there burns a beastly light .

And you have gnawed me , like the princess Mouse , the

while , With the ﬁne end o f that Sharp tooth which is your

smile , who w Maiden august, makes my sorro blazon clear , o il ! Again , as with the ranci d of your old tear m ! Yea , foolish , I will die of that da ned look you keep ’ o u ? But go ( will y ) the unsuspecting pool s asleep ,

And from the lilies , ﬂeet one needs acclaim at last, Dead water has drunk up the wind that swept each

mast . ! o Throw yoursel f in , exalt t make my grief more drear, S so o ne peak thou in tones low must be deaf to hear .

RECENTLY PROLOGUE

S o f THE E are things the twilight, V isions when the night declines .

O Truth , thou giveth them light Even as a dawn that shines

So dimly in the shade abhorred ,

One doubts , each moment , i f these be

Created by the pale moon , blurred

By tossing branches of a tree ,

BALLAD

O N Two YOUNG ELM TREES

MY ’ garden was sweet as twas fair, ’ Thou gh humble twas rich to possess ;

Half orchard , with vegetables rare , W t i h some ﬂowers that bloomed , none the less ,

In colo rs of hap iness . Birds sat on tile boughs of each tree ; An d grass stretched for idl eness ut B dearer my elms were to me .

m m Fro y dining room , lighted and clear ,

Where Wine often ﬂowed to excess , I saw them salute in the ai r W hen touched by the wind in its stress , An d bend in a loving caress , Their leaves seem ed to ﬂute as in glee ;

In that close there was j oy , I confess m But dearer my elms were to e .

Al as ! when came tim e to im pair My j oy without hope of redress ; The orchard and g a rden did share In the gloom of my bitter distress And m the ﬂowers that bloo ed to excess , An d the grass that pillowed so free And the bird that m y sorrows impress a m But de rer my elms were to e .

I V VO I

“ c w ! i m l n s s O prince , I have kno 1 e c And j oy where your l t Wi h health . and love , But de arer m v elm s v

1 5 4 P aul Verlai ne

PARSI FAL

PARSI FAL has vanquished the Damsels , their gentle m Babble and a using luxury, and their bent Toward the Flesh o f the virgin boy they would tempt

To love thei r glowing breasts and their gentle babble .

W m so He has vanquished the o an with heart subtle , Displ aying he r tempting arms and throat like a lily bent He has vanquished Hades and retu rned to his tent W o f ith the heavy trophy burnished metal , With the spear in his arms that pierced the Saviour’s

side .

He has healed the king and now a king, in his pride , — He has himself become priest of the Holy G rail . He kneels to adore in garments of golden ﬁre ’ The v a se where the Saviour s blood like the morning shines o f ! And , O , the voices children singing in the choir

EVENING THOUGHT C ROUCHED in the withered grass and cold ,

exile , sa d Under the yews , frost white , of that isle ; Or w andering like the ghostly fo rms that seem a a a In th t wild l ndscape born s O f a dream , Where w a tch thei r fabled herds ere t aking ﬂight - a a The blue eyed B rbari ns with visage white , o f L The tender Ovid , lonely bard ove , S — — weeps with hi s glance the sky below above , f And contemplates the wide expanse o sea . L o v e I SS — His hair i s thin the gray locks blowing free 1 o n Above a forehead wrinkled , fold fold ; H i s habit rent , the ﬂesh cut by the cold , o rlo m F the haunting smile , eyes dull and worn , i H . s beard , now nearly white , is rudely torn

a How all these sorrows witness , in thei r w y , A life complete with sadness and dismay ; a Excessive love , ﬁerce envy , burning h te , S And some Slight obligations to the tate . Thus Ovid mourns the Rome th a t once acclaimed L — hi s Him bard of ove that Rome muse proclaimed .

So o f Jesus , who obscures this li fe mine , No t ! being Ovid , I at least am Thine

L UCIEN LETINO I S 111

O ! — a WOMAN Prudent , wise , c lm enemy, As a c o f yet h lf onscious your v 1ct o ry .

Killing the wounded , seeking out the Spoils , a n And spreading ruin far with i ron d ﬂame . a so O good uncert in friend , little sure , — — Sweet often to o sweet like a ﬁre of coals That lulls o n e in a gentle soothing Sleep

Where death to soul and body often lurks . W m ’ — o an , I m done with you for good take here o f a ( However , with a sense h lf regret From o n e that one remorse alone recalls )

This insult . But as you can never have m a Re orse , more th n a pine a living shade ,

This , then , is my deﬁnitive farewell . o u r Tree fatal to the refuge of race ,

From Eden to this Irritated Day . 1 5 6 P aul Verla i ne

V a f i s . I HA E a m nia o r love . My foolish heart weak a No matter when , no matter what , no m tter where . o f o r o r Wherever the light beauty , virtue , valiance

shines , There my heart throws itself with furious speed ; m And , having clasp ed at last , embraces a hundred ti es o r The being obj ect it pursued with tireless zeal . ﬂ o wn— has Then , when the illusion has taken wing, m sad r My heart beco es lonely and , yet faithful and t ue ; L a m o f eaving to the ingr tes so ething , at least , itself o r Bloo ﬂesh . Then , without further grieving to di eatb fo r o f m Immediately embarks the isles the Chi eras , a C arrying naught but the bitter te rs it had known , And the frightful despairs o f the mom ent r - Then e embarks . h I have a mama fo r love . W at shall I do ? ! Bah , nothing

XVIII

DO you recall in Paradise , dear soul , — The station at Auteuil the trains o f o ld o u L a ? That bore y daily, come from Chapelle No w all i s over ! Well do I recall Our meeting places ’neath the sloping stairs — Awaiting you un able to forget

Your graceful movements coming down the steps . — How agile and how slim an angel form

On a celestial ladder , ﬂoating down . m so And then your friendly s ile , ﬁlial ; — The cordial clasp of hands your loyalty .

1 6 2 P aul Ve rlai ne

ALLEGORY

AN ancient temple crumbling like a dream dim m m o f On the su it a yellow hill , L o ld ike some throneless king , weeping at will , I S o n a vaguely mirrored a sluggish stre m .

With stupid mien and sleepy listless air ,

A withered Naiad with her drowsy wiles ,

Plagues with a willow wand a faun that smiles ,

Like some Old gallant rustic Sitting there .

Stale and insipi d them e that saddens me ! What bard am ong the singers can there be L ? ike me Who moves me , in a sullen rage ?

o u t r What worn , frayed and dusty tapest y, Tr1t e settm s o f as the g an opera stage , S 13 m ? A false , alas , as y destiny

THE FRIENDS

O N TH E BALCONY

TWO forms watching the swallows in their ﬂight .

One pale , with j et black hair ; the other blonde — And pink their ﬂowing garments o f o ld blond

Like vague serpents twining , cloudlike and light .

Both languorous as asphodels where bright a The sky glows with full moon , soft and round ,

Whose rays throb with emotion , deep , profound . Pa ra llelly 1 63

Thus , with arms pressing thei r bodies supple ,

Strange couple pitying every other couple ,

They dream upon the moonlit balcony . 3 Behind them in the room rich somber shade , 1n a m as Enthroned st tely po p , in a play,

o f . And full perfumes , stands the Bed , unmade

SAPPHO

0° m ITH hollow eyes and boso s ﬁrm and bold , S a The maddened appho , torn by p ssions white , h - Runs like a s e wolf o n the beaches cold .

She o f o f dreams Phaon , forgetful the Rite ,

And , seeing how her tears so illy fare , m By handfuls pulls her long and strea ing hair .

she Then evokes , with grief , silent , yet deep , The days when brightly shown the early fame o f Of those warm loves extolled in songs ﬂame ,

S m . ent , now, in me ory to the maids asleep

o n she With pallid lids weary eyes , bends L And springs into the waters o f a Moire . On the bl a ck waves the lights from heaven pour

And pale Selene has avenged the Friends . 1 64 Pa ul Verlaine

HARLOTS

T the ri ncess Kau ki ne o P . “ Cap ellos de Angel o s ( Frandise e sp ag nol )

G w U LY as though dra n by Boucher . N0 powder in her ﬂowing hair, S ’ he s foully blonde , yet passing fai r To a us who sin with her each d y . I And it is mine , think by right , This golden hea d so often kissed ; a a s o f This w rm casc de o t embraced , m Whose ends light e with rays o f light .

she i s I But more to me , hold , Like som e deep ﬂ aming circle o ’er The entrance of a temple door ; f Or like the fabled ﬂeece o gold .

’ An d who sh all sing this beauty s source Sa m e ve , her chorister and priest , a at Her sl ve , her master , who least a m Thus d mns hi self without remorse .

a Her body with its h rmonies , As soft and white as i s a rose ; As white a s m ilk and pink as those ’ Pink lilies blown neath purple skies .

a a and Thighs be uti ful , bre sts firm tense ; m a The back , the loins , the sto ch , feast an a For the eyes d the h nds in quest ,

And for the mouth a n d eve ry sense .

I 66 P a ul Verlai ne

’ ! 5 0 You re right , my girl love me , Better than young or aged men

Unskill ful in the loving art . — For I I know your manner best ; a m I know e ch move ent, each behest ;

And pledge you an indulgent heart .

Nay, nay , but put that frown to rout ,

Casta , and drive away that pout ; And let me si those sweets o f thine — p Piana , sugar , salt , and spice Sweets that m y thirsty lips entice

And let me drink thy balms divine .

REFE RENCES II FALSE IMPRESSION D AME mouse scampers ,

Black in the gray of eve .

Dame mouse scampers , n Gray 1 the dark .

They sound the bell .

All the good prisoners sleep .

They sound the bell ,

You , too , should sleep .

Not the ba d dream .

No thought but of your loves . Not the bad dream ; The good always !

The wide moonlight !

They snore close by your side . The wide moonlight In reali ty ! Parallel]y 1 67

A cloud passes ,

It grows dark as an oven , A cloud passes : o f ! Hold , the dawn day

Dame mouse scampers ! so Pink in the rays blue . Dame m ouse scampers G et o u ! up , y lazy

OTHERS

- m THE j ail yard blosso s with care , Like the forehead Of each o n e there

Who goes , with faltering step and thigh S hrunken quite , Along the wall

Foolish with light .

S m Turn , a sons without Delilah ,

Without Philistine , Turn well the Mill the Fates predestine

And , railing not the law , apart , Crush at each move

Your faith , your heart

And your love . They pass ! and their poor shoes Mak e a dry sound ; With pipe at nose

Humbly they go round . 1 68 Pa ul Verlaine

A word— the dungeon is their lot !

Not a sigh . It is so hot

They think to die . And I— I go in measured strides s d With that a band .

Prepared , besides ,

Nothing to withstand .

And if I , too , shall contrite be , v o Thy stubborn w, Society Did you choose me ?

Brothers mine , good old robbers , S weet vagabonds ,

Full blown sharpers , My heart responds ! S o n moke philosophically ,

Promenade you ,

Peacefully . ’ Tis sweet to nothing do .

REVE RSIBLES

To us i n m ali n o situs t g o p .

O HEAR the cats that make cr A long, shrill y, S t wi f calls that come to wake ,

Then slowly die . w sad Ah , here this scene blends , The Al re ady s are the Agains l

I 7 0 P aul Verlaine

’ One might well say tw a s like awaking birds that try An sk early ﬂight against the violet tinted y ,

And with the daylight scarcely yet begun to dawn . ! O these trains that speed like torrents , thundering on

BAB E BUT E IMPRO L , TRU

LA ! I am in the Index , and in the dedications

V. Here I am Paul pure and simple . The audacity Of my friends ( for publishers are of the saints )

Is great , and they should ban me from thei r catalogues . Extraordinary and saponaceous thunder Of an excomm unic ation that I venerate To the point o f making any quantity o f faults !

However, i f I were not ( forcibly) prevented , am I would love , seeing how contrary I , so This modesty , rare , in all the world of books .

TH E LAST TEN

B G EL IUM , that gave to me this leisure without ease , Thanks ! Here at least I can reﬂect and seize o f In the silence these cells , calm and white ,

The reasons , that , like insects , take thei r ﬂight Above the boastful reeds o f a vain world ; o f Reasons my eternal self , divine ; And I can ticket all ( so dearly bought ) fi r o f In the ne c ystal cases my thought .

But , O Belgium , this stubbo rn prison door , — ? Open at last enough , why punish more

. 1 Brussels , Aug , 8 73 .

. I 8 Mons , Jan , 75 . P arallelly I 7 I

MOONS

I WI SH 0 , that I may kill you , time that lays me

waste , ’ o m T live again the days when y heart s love was chaste . To lull my luxu ry and sham e to the sweet notes o n Of kisses Her hand , and not upon Their throats . a am -da m a The vile Tiberi s I to y , y keep o r M e hour by hour , and though I laugh though I weep , ! m f ar o Ah , may he sleep to drea from a cruel j y a m Of those p le budding aids , honored without alloy m a In oonlit fetes , a fter the green sward d nce so light , m When fro the steeple strikes the middle hour of night .

AFTER TH E MANNER OF PAUL VERLAINE

’ THE moon s to blam e fo r what is done When I assume the mask nocturne ; S And aturn who inclines her urn , o n And her pale moons , e after one . Romances without words ! How rare The charm o f their expressed discord !

False and insipid word for word , And yet what sound and thrill is there

’ Tis not through lack o f pardonings For those who wound your sense o f truth ; ’ m Myself I pardon , tis y youth

Embellishing some foolish things . 1 7 2 P a ul Verlai ne

And I absolve these lies from harm , ’ o Tis they that bring a banal J y , Since these sad leisures I employ

Inoculate me with thei r charm .

E! PLANATION

’ ’ Je v o us dis u e ce n est as cc u e l o n e nsa q p q .

P .

’ T HE happiness to bleed upon a true friend s heart, hi s The need to weep upon breast these tears of mine , h1m lo w The sweet desire to speak to , and apart,

The dream to be With him alone , without design .

The grief at having such good enemies , in swa rms .

The deep disgust at being an obscene machine .

The horror of mad cries , impure , from demon forms . o f m The nightmare a never ending stor y scene .

’ ’ o G o T give one s li fe to d or to one s native land . o u — k i ssm Or to the other, whom y love g the hand ’ — k 1ss1n That ne er betrayed g the mouth that never l l es .

To live far from all tasks , from saintly to rments ﬂy Fo r the clear breasts o f women with the shining eye And for the rest ! toward what deaths full of infamies !

TH E LAST PETE GALL‘ANT O — NCE for all , separate let us be ﬂ eet ,

an o u a . Dear gentlemen , d y , most dear mesd mes

Enough of ma rri age songs with loud acclaims ,

An d . then , besides , our j oys were cloying sweet

1 74 Pa ul Verlai ne

That I was hooted at was very plain By those young toughs near where o n e takes the car ;

And the abuse I threw them , though in vain , a o W s such I nearly choked n my cigar . — Now I return : I hear a voice the light S o f S o r o n tep a ghost . omeone , no e near ? d — ! Yet , surely someone passe Ah , what a night

The hour of droll awakening soundeth clear .

. 1 1 1 8 . Attigny ( Ardennes ) May 3 , July , 8 5

THE I MPUDENT

THE evil eye and miseries wide , S aid with no thought to slander , Have given to this ﬁend o f pride o f The soul an old prisoner .

e tta to re sad Yes , j , wanderer , fi and o f m The rst last the that sigh , Y o u dwell in the black Shadows where

Men will pursue you till you die .

The children ripen at your look .

Refusals many m ust yo u brook .

S . ince , impudent , your ways annoy

ass o u r B eauties that p , y smiling elves , . Throw n o t your coms to th s bad boy , —i But give , instead of alms yourselves . Parallelly I 7S

THE I MPENITENT

O LD rover worn and weary eyed, i With hellish lust unsatisf ed, Whose f a ded orbs grow clear and bright When some fair woman passes by

And , like a window, throws a light .

Your senses waken , subtle , high ; S tamen and pistil , too , reply ;

She ll . is a ﬂower, all fruit , all food And from your mouth your tongue extends o - To lick your lips s hungry rude .

Old fractious faun that rears and bends , Are you not done — what further ends Can serve your lust the fi lthy host ?

Old fool , have you not had your due , ? And is it nothing , this you boast

o f t o In spite dainties lost view , Your heart grown icy through and through ; G nawing , as though a luxury ,

Your heart , your loins , your very spleen ’ Your Vitals wheresoe er they be .

S o f ugared and sweet , honeyed mien , Damning like ﬁre from heaven seen ; - o r Powder black , blue as a ﬂower ,

Your passioned gaze seeks every eye , ’ o f And this in spite heaven s Power .

o u The noses please y that pass by , G racious o r saucy ones awry ; m en On women , as on , they place a The indications that they be r, And give the force to every face I 7 6 P aul Verlai ne

L ong kisses clear as songs are clear, Astringent kisses small and dear

That seem to suck the souls they frame . o f The good , fat kisses a child ,

m . And dancing kisses , like a ﬂ a e

Kisses hungry, and kisses wild , deﬁled Kisses drunken , for mouths , Kisses languid and ferocious

These the best loved , notwithstanding, Are they not ? fai r mouths atrocious !

m a Bodies , too , your taste de nding, B ette r in repose than standing ; a Their charms displaying as they m rch ,

Of no importance where they stroll , o Bridge Holy Spi rit r the Arch .

o f But this that you demand all , o f o r Large , small , aspect bright dull , Is this : they must at least be young With ﬁne strong feet and arms as light A S muscular , and tresses hung

L : o r ike this long , curly, cut quite — Short otherwise perverse . In spite

Of which , at least, there needs must be Some s aving touch o f innocence S m o f o e show , at least , decency .

a n d Nay , nay , be witness defence , Ye gods who know her ﬁ re intense ;

That all her manner , all her art , Can sound the depth where pleasures ﬂow , i With useless t r ﬂ e s put apart .

And it i s thus that morals go , ﬂ And meet that sco ers have some show .

1 7 8 Paul Verlaine

To the puff ed eye of philanthropy ; Al l seems black to him , maid or grisette , o r o f M en , or wine , books the day . 1n But I see li fe its re d array . ENVOI I Prince or princesses go , p ray, In triumph down the road where I 1n Plod the ruts of the roadside clay .

But I see li fe m its red array .

HANDS

S T HE E are not the hands of a churchman , Some elegant prelate less saintly than ﬁne ; And yet they seem to wear the same distinction o Imprinted here succinctly line n line .

And these are not the hands of an artist, S u s ome lonely poet , let say, obscure ; sad— But something as perhaps the saddest,

Resembling a group in miniature .

a These h nds have thei r character and souls , 1n They are a world movement , so it seems ; Theythumb and little ﬁnger a re the poles a B etween which ﬂow the strange m gnetic streams .

The meteors that Shoot across the brain , ’ a o erru n Quite like those tempests th t the heart ,

Are here repeated with a logic plain ,

And mirrored with a consummating art .

15 Nor there here the worthy rural palm , ’ Of those who dwell beyond the cities show ; w ! Theirs are the deep dra n lines , how calm : That seem to say Toil , that ye nothing owe . Parallelly I 79

They are meager ; they are long ; they are gray The knu ckles are quit e large ; the nails are square Like hands the windows o f a chu rch display Where saints beneath the golden branches fare

" old t r Or like some decrepi soldie s , met ’ ' In a fter ye a rs wi th all their struggles o er ; b - Recalling their long battles , ﬁelds lood wet, e In summ er twilight by some tav rn door .

so They have tonight , these hands strangely dry, ' a a rthe w B eneath the sc nty h i years have rought, ' the t o u éh an d A rougher aspect to eye , ' ‘ r t o O m ' a As though in p ey S e s d afterthought . ‘

‘ ‘ ho lds thém i n m c The cruel care that e bra e , a am u Their bitter h lf dre seems as tho gh to mar, And wrings from them a sinister grim a ce

a wa are . In thei r peculi r y , hands that they

' ‘ ‘ see them e l in as I fear to y g , still time ,

‘ ‘ Here on m y t able, u n dern e ath m y eye

‘ As though p rem e dit ating' so m e black cri S ‘ d of o s ome mad , some furious eed m nstrou guise .

—’ The right hand at my right left at my left I t a am alone , sit ing with forehe d bowed , a so r While slowly m my ch mber, be e ft , o f The linen takes the aspect a shroud .

W o ne a Unceasing howls the wind . ith l st gleam a The twilight dies cross my window Shutter . These hands ! I f they should be som e ghastly dream ! — — So much the better then o r worse o r better ! I 80 Paul Verlai ne

PIE RROT GAMIN

S THI is not Pierrot , the wild ,

Any more than Pierrot , the child .

This is Pi errot, Pierrot , Pie rrot . r Pierrot gamin , Pie rot gay,

Fresh as a green nut , fresh as May, 13 This Pierrot, Pierrot, Pierrot !

a a m In st ture sc rce a eter tall ,

No task to fetter , like a doll , In his eyes the ﬂash of steel S uited to the cunning deil . To his malice inﬁn it e

G . rimacer, yet poet quite

Lips red as a wound is red ,

With evil luxuries well fed . a — ﬁn e Face p le , mouth mocking ; a a — in Long , ccentu ted each line The tell -tale thought that clings

And contemplates all things .

no t Body slender and yet thin . ’ Voice not shrill ( to a girl s ak I n )

Adolescence that tarries late .

V m m . oice to co and , body en fete Charming cre ature ready quite

To satisfy each appetite .

G o a ! , brothe r , comr de , go Pl ay the devil high an d low

Take o f P a ri s every toll . a a n Ro m the world d be the soul ,

Noble , high , with vile intent ,

Of o u r spirits innocent .

HAPPINESS

I 8 6 Pa ul Verlai ne

sad Explainable , however, by a robbery ’

O f . ( which the history , tis said , is truly bad ) ’ That I ve the rheumatism is a mere detail , wh And , though I have to shelter here , y should I rail . ’ — “ ” S sa . So ! I m here live here . ome y I vegetate be ’ They are deceived . Through li fe s strict ways I come to see

S no t . ome needful bread , too much wine , a better bed i ’ m s n . I expiate so e ancient , twere better said ( Ve ry ancient ?) My blood oft felt this sudden heat ! “ so And , relatively speaking , penance is sweet In martyrology and things armori al Of poets— perhaps it is proverbial ! a Like any place , here one may rest in pe ceful mood , o f —a L atu de Be a good child prison benign ,

so Not counting some poor simple rhymer, to Speak , st arv m Who faces death from g , being all too weak

sa m . In these d ti es when life is rough , hard and unkind — ! To die to die O loving Muse to me inclined , To die in this sad place is better far I hold “ ” o n e o l Unless , that here i s a layman and the d Abuses are reform ed— the citizen made free

And strong . In fact , he must , else the stability G Of overnment be lost , with this , that most alarms , S i s n t o n n f ince he o horseback o a coat o arms . i To die , then , in the shelter ng arms Municipal ,

A thought that at its best is hardly cheerful . o wn m o Yet , haunted by thi s thought , I my sha eful r le , ’ Tis well , they ought to treat me like a blatant fool .

The convers ation in this modest resting place ﬁ a Is not so dif cult o r void of social gr ce .

These good folk that the Journal renders quite inane , all Conse rve , in spite of attacks and ﬁerce disdain u a That the Instr ction hurls at e ch hard stubborn head , S o f ome knowledge the times and what i s being said . H app i ness 1 8 7

The Revolution that ’tis always well to cite

And also to condemn , has not extinguished quite

Their lively Spirits , that are none the less sincere ; to o f And I prefer them the numbskulls my sphere , Truly pand I can stand the shock an d let things be ff Their vice and virtue are indi erent to me . — Lacking only Christian hope this is a convent . ’ fo — in I need r nothing here fact I m well content . ! And here would I remain , my faith All of m life ; stri And without j ealousy , I hope , and without e , ’ I f , when I m cured , indeed , i f such I am , it be G o d set fo r That has not some other labor me .

! ! V

' To Mo nsi eur Bo re l y .

Y O U ask o n of me some verses Amour, o f My book sad emotions and distress , a m S Far dist nt now in y strange ongs , that press

And fall , a ﬂood more bitter every hour .

! What say, unless Poor Yorick better , Poor ” L eli an l o f poor soul , so full feebleness , G rown soft by time , caress , and laziness ;

Or , taken with a sudden stroke to war

so On all his past , pure , without a stain Well ordered by calm thought o f good intent ; To G o d . damn them all , those hours with well spent

m Then it returns , y Work , worn by the strain ,

1n . And kneels penance , asking to be blessed — L li n Pray with and for the bard the Poor e a. I 8 8 P a ul Verlai ne

‘ XXXI

I L S MMEDIATE Y after the sumptuous alutaris ,

With all the lights put out , save a few ﬂickering candles , The psalms for the dead are sung i n minor tones

By the clerks and by the people , seized with melancholy . With solemn knell the bells of the cathedral m o f Are answered fro the towers all the diocese , ’ r Hovering and weeping o er the towns and the count y,

In the night , so early come , of the long delayed autumn .

Each goes to rest , led by the doleful voices So m inﬁnitely sweet of the me orial bronze , o f That lulls the slee , a little sad , those yet living, 0 o f With memories the dead all the parishes .

C OMPANION , savory and good , To whom I have bestowed the care ’ Of my old days , e en as I should ; Who i s my last sole witness here ; m Co e , my beloved , that I may kiss ,

Embrace you long , to take your breath . My heart near yours beats full of bliss

With that strong love that lasts till death . So love me true , Fo r without you ,

I nothing am , And nothing can !

a s Poor a church mouse , I , and yet Y o u ha d ten ﬁngers , and no more Our table was too often set In b a sement o r in garret poor Yet never failed o u r bed to ring With j oyous sounds in lieu o f wealth And it was I was always king Of all your ga iety an d health ! So love me true , For without you

I nothing am , And nothing can !

o f After our nights love , robust , I come forth strengt hened and relieved

For your caress is rich and just ,

And this , my ﬂ esh , i s not deceived . Your love m akes valiant every p a rt Of my poor being like a wine ; [ 1 9 1 ] I 92 Paul Verlai ne

Alone , you only have the art, ff To pu me up a heart divine . So love me true , Fo r without you ,

I nothing am , And nothing can !

Of what import your past , my belle , m r arbleu ! o n Of what i po t , p my w ;

For I shall always love you well , m And you Shall love but e alone . In our two m iseries let ’s unite

The pardon that the world withholds . S ’ o let s embrace , O hold me tight

And ﬁe upon the world that scolds . So love me true , o u For without y ,

I nothing am , An d nothing can !

B ? RUNETTE , or blonde o r Black , like the skies , Your eyes ? w I do not kno , and yet I love thei r depths profound , a And I adore your h ir, that in disorder ﬂies .

o r ? Mild , severe

Wise , or with a mocking art , Your heart ? n I do not know , and yet give tha ks to nature dear, That made your heart my master— vanquished every p art

1 94 Pa ul Verlai ne

’ I m schooled in things that bring a curse .

Revolting , also , in a way, As ba d as any m an today ’ — Perhaps , by chance , I m even worse .

’ My women have been light , tis clear . a That you a re not a saint is pl in .

This frank avowal gives me pain , S t u s ! aid thus be ween , O my dear

’ Tis true I once was quite a rake . a And true , perh ps , that I am yet . ? Dishonored thus , can I forget

My thirst for horrors naught can slake .

B ah , let us never cease to be fo r we Warm lovers , Mignon , can — I You a good girl , virtuous man Since I love you and you love me !

! ! V

O m . NCE I was ystic , but it could not last a ( For Woman binds me with strand of hair . ) fo r And yet I have respect what is past , a For the idea! th t I now forswear .

! Yes , Woman binds me with a silken hair

o d In youth I sent my daily prayer to G . ’ ( Today tis you who have m e on my knees . ) a And I was full of f ith and of white hope ,

Of charity whose pure ﬁre kissed the breeze .

’ Today ti s you who have me o n my knees ! So ngs fo r H e r I 9S

o u Woman , the Master, rules through y today .

Rules with a force that makes the strongest bend .

But O , the treacherous , who still must sway ,

And fei gn all things simply to gain her end .

To mystic days long gone this lay I send !

HEN peace fully I talk with you This 13 truly charming Then peacefully

You talk with me . When I dispute

And foolishly reproach you , Then y o u dispute

Ah , this is droll !

And sharply you reproach me .

I f 1t happp ens

I deceive you ,

O misery ,

You run the town ,

And gaily you deceive me . I f I am true Fo r any length of time , Y u o stay with me , Remaining true

Fo r j ust that length of time . I f happy

I should chance to be , Yo u are twice as happy , And I am glad

To se e you also happy .

DO I weep ,

Y o u weep with me .

Am I in need, [ 1 99 ] 2 00 P aul Verlaine

How gaily

You hasten to my side . Am I faint

You too are faint , An d I am more In seeing you So f a n m i t g .

Ah , when I die

Will you die , too ? “ As I love yo u

The most I , too , ” Will surely die . And I awake

From all these musings . Al as ! Was this a dream ? dream o r ? ( A n what ) m u s1n s These g .

S THEY tell me , weet , you are untrue , ? What matter , should I be dismayed n — You could not break , dear o o not you

An oath that you had never made . They tell me that ou a re unkind — o 1m s Toward me I w o s m et e am rude . ? Unkind Far better, could they ﬁnd

A tune more suited to your mood .

? An d ff Unkind yet you always o er , o n e Dear , a sweet , amusing smile ; co ﬂ er M queen , from whose resplendent - ( Iiaw . I rich treasures , worth the while

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LE . e G . S . t I Cazals , F A ustave Le Rouge DERN ERS

A AI . V . JOURS DE P UL ERL NE Paris Mercure de France .

I 9 1 1 . " ‘ - TH E r et . A AI I u qu Milnes INFLUENC E OF B UDEL RE .

81 . 0 1 . London . Constable Co 9 3

L e elleti er . A V AI E . SA VIE . SO N p , Edm P UL ERL N é 1 0 S é du . . OE UVRE . Paris . oci t M ercure de France 9 7

AI I TI . . . V E N Donos , Ch ( Ch de Martrin ) ERL N ME

. 1 8 8 . Paris Vanier . 9

m . B S . . Huys ans , Joris Karl A RE OUR Paris Char

enti e r 1 8 8 . p . 4

’ ET V T L ITT RA RE . E O L U I O N E I ! S L . Huret , J EN U E UR

1 . 1 . 1 1 Par s Charpent er 8 9 .

G m . L E L IV DES AS ! ES . . De our ont , R RE M U Paris S é é d a 6 u . 1 8 oci t Mercure de Fr nce 9 . S TH E SY B T T I N . IS V N ymons , Arthur M OL MO EME T T L 1 I A . L ER URE ondon . Heinemann . 899 . L m . TH E MAN G E I S . L o n o broso , Cesare OF N U

S . 1 1 don . cott 8 9 . L T l i . ES AI V . IV NS . o Lema tre , Jules CON EMPOR ( ) ’ é a I r . S é Paris oci t Franc ise D m p rim e i e et de Librairie .

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I A MA N . G eo . SS S N Moore , CONFE ON OF YOU G L 1 S So n n enche i n 8 8 8 . London . wan , , owery . L o I A I I . o n G e . SS S D S M oore , IMPRE ON N OP N ON

o n 1 8 1 . d . Nutt . 9

. T Y ENC Eccles , Francis Yvon A CEN UR OF FR H

T n b . 1 0 . L . o st a le & Co POE S . ondon C 9 9

T A T AIT . . Y S Harris , Frank CON EMPOR R POR R New

K nn rle 1 1 . York . e e y . 9 5 [ 203 ] 2 04 P aul Verlai ne

T T m . AI V . C S . Tho pson , ance FREN H POR R Boston 1 00 Badger . 9 .

. ATI . A E N . N ordau , Max D GENER O New York p

t n 1 8 . p l e o . 5 i n é S Do u m c e . ET E E S D S D I C E . , HOMME I E U XIX L

1 0 . Paris . Perrin , 9 3 T S . E . I dw NC S . Delille , OME FRE H WR ER London

Chapman Hall . 1 8 93 .

E . G dm . C I S . osse , FREN H PROF LE London Heine 1 0 mann , 9 5 . CE RE ET Va V a . UV S C S . . erlaine , P ul OMPL E Paris - 1 8 0. nier . 5 volumes , 99 9

G . IB I A IE VERLAI NI Tournoux , eorges A B L OGR PH

L ei z i . 1 1 2 . ENNE . p c Rowohlt . 9

NO TES

To Eu en e arriére . o c o f t o m Page 43 . g C The s ur e his p e ’ to be o au la l u du Mal the o m is f und in B de ires e rs , in p e “ F ” t tl : E a o u n l co n dem né acco to en i ed pigr phe p ur ivre , rding E u o et C t t D P et . rnes p y , in his es ri iques

l h l o a 6 . o w the o a t e i t f t o m P ge 4 V . In rigin frs ine his p e

e A ! l es o ar stis. n o act al t b gins , h y There is ex equiv en ar l fo r the wo rd o ystis in Eng ish . I t is Greek in o rigin an d o o l t c bs e e in Fren h .

Fa m l ar D r ea a M i i m . o al a a ol P ge 48 . y he rigin re ds s f “ T lo ws in the elevent h line : Co mrrn e ceux des aim és ue la Vie ” “ q la a c Y o Eccl a u la l exi . Fr n is v n es s ys : ! e Vie exi a 1s o b c th lo a l s ure . Were e be ved b nished by this ife fro m the1r h o m e in heaven ? O r were they sim ply severed by its viciss i tu des fro m their ideal loves ? Perh aps this is o nly an instance in c the o t has a m o t a m a an d m to m a whi h p e s id re h n he e ns , see s e n m o a ha a re th n he s s id .

a Parisia n ket ch. o m P ge 49 . S This p e is written o f at l m ai l t b Le t Vo . Les Co t m o a an d l eng h y re in IV, n e p r ins , he d t o cu l as are al o t o ta l l t o f M t c up ridi e , sever hers , n b y Twi igh ys i Ev e an d T o Cl m y ene .

a E ect o 0. s i ht c P ge 5 ff f N g . This urio us and pict uresque s tu dy rem inds o n e o f Aloysiu s Bertrand an d his fantas t ic Silho u e t tes Ca a h in sp r o f t e Nigh t . Beau delaire w as never m o re ff ct l u du Mal e e ive in e rs . I t is interes t ing to no te a ch ange F “ ” in the text fro m d eu x cent v i n gtci n q p e rtu isaniers in Cho ix “ ” de Po ésies t o u m gro s de h auts pertu isaniers in the O euvres Co m l t p e es . 2 08 P a ul Ve rlai ne

Pa . Val u r is Ni ht Classi c. l ge 5 5 p g g , The ine

at th e a at o f the co a t This is r her s bb se nd F us , th an the o ther ;

’ to the co a t o f G o t a t refers se nd p r e hes F us .

P a 60 . So n o t he I n én u e ge g f g s.

Cau ssades an d the Richelieux he , T ” An d the K t Fau blas all a nigh s p ss ,

Cau ssades an d the Richelieux alla t a t a The were g n p r is ns , an d Kn t Fau blas t o who t m am t all igh s were h se were ( e per en y , ’ at least ) like t he Chevalier Fau blas in Lo uvet de Co ubray s ' o m a c Am o du C al Fau blas an t t c t r n e, urs hev ier , eigh een h en ury o lo u l narrat ive o f friv s ife .

D a l a o m m l a A h . to a P ge 64 . i This p e see ed h ve p ease d Sa t - who m t o the act a l tt t o la in e Beuve, en i ned f in e er Ver ine ’ o m a an d a and o o h in 1 866. W n C t S ng f t e Ingenues were l a a ll acco t o Do o ikewise pr ised by B nvi e , rding n s , in his Ver la t m ine In i e .

ll i erm o re . Le e et er t o f t o m as Page 65 . N ev p wri es his p e fo llows : Do ubtless he ( Verl aine) had fo rewarnings o f the ‘ t bu t 1 86 o t : H a has al fu ure, when in 5 he wr e ppiness w ked side ’ t m e the l c a t a a l to n o by side wi h , ines h rged wi h disp ir pp ied actual fact in his life ; as y et he has experienced n o real ” t ro ubles .

Mar co . o o t o t acco m a t o m Page 67 . A f n e p nying his p e in the ﬁ rst edi t io n o f Poém e s Saturniens reads : The autho r acknowledges th at the rhythm and style o f this refrain are o o o m a oe m the co ll ct o o f M - T Sa t b rr wed fr p in e i n . J de in ' ' m a Ro N o l o Ger in : Les ses de e ( Mign n) .

a Pa n t o m i m o Clitan der o l m 1 . e . t P ge 7 Pierr , , C u bine , — H arlequ in ho w im m o rtal these creatures o f fancy ! B o rn in the So th the o l w as o an d m o o o t u , when w r d y unger re j y us , hey piro uette thro ugh I tal i an co m edy ; do the bidding o f Mo liere an d Sh akespeare ; d ance in the canvases o f the ! III century ; an d the age o f cem ent an d steel has n o t wh o lly ext inguished t o o la t an d m heir j y us ugh er erry quips .

2 1 0 Pa ul Verlai ne

t l so the t a lat o t as an am l o f en ire y in r ns i n , is inser ed ex p e la at o t o m tl ctat the Ver ine his w rs . A p e eviden y di ed by Green a F iry .

a . Beho ld th do o an v l P ge 1 1 1 . VI e g f Je Ni e le In French fo lk lo re the do g o f Jean de N ivelle was always ’ r a a m o t a t U l a do the unning w y when s w n ed . n ike Je n s g ’ — Mére Mic hel s cat was alw ays co m ing b ack to the so rro w o f Pet e L u st u cru o l o o . The d French s ng c ncerning this fam o us cat begins as fo llows :

“ ’ C t la m e M c l a u so n c at es re i he qui perd h , ’ ’ ! u i cri ar la fen ét r est - c lu i a p qui qui rendr , ’ Et 1 co m per Lu stu cru qui l u i a résp o n du : “ ’ ’ All z la m e r M c l o t c at t as u . e , i he , v re h n es p perd

The po em is m o re o r less m eaningless t o o n e unacqu ainted

W1th c . m Fren h nursery rhy es .

r K o l ar a lo a Cha lero i . o e t o the P ge 1 1 5 . b ds f bu us spiri s f m . C a l o e a m t o l m the ines h r er i , b ing ining wn in Be giu , refer c o o en e is bvi us .

ar h ali n . h e two o t e Page 1 1 9 . M es T ere renderings f ﬁ t l o t o the o al c o fteen h ine f his p em in rigin ren h . n Ch ix F I ” de Po ésies the l ine reads : So us v o s yeux a peine irises ! “ ” n O u evres Co m pletes the wo rd yeux is su bst i tu ted fo r th at I “ ” o f cieux .

' ! o wa alli c an— an s n i t a 1 2 6 . N / T i J e s P ge . s G The las t l ine o f this p o em is as follo ws

Su r t es a l 6 o ll Cat é al ! i es de pierre , f e h dr e

The m eaning o f the adject ive fo lle in this co nnectio n is l a al al o exceedingly o bscure . Why fo o ish C thedr ? here is s “ ” T the c o oll m a a n et t l a m . Fren h w rd f e, e ning wi h rge eshes

do th a o t raw . . H o e sh n es as w s s P age 1 2 8 . III p i i p f Fo r a ludicr o u s analysis o f this curio usly m ys t ical poe m the a 15 to Le m a1t re Co t m o a Vol . . re der referred , n e p r ins , IV No tes 2 1 1

T t o n r o Pa 1 0. . he sh is us be d t he o ge 3 VI y j y f, t e a t l o m co m o o l a t O f his b u ifu p e , p sed in pris n , Ver ine wri es in “ his boo k Me s Priso ns : Above the wall be fo re m y windo w ( I had a windo w I could see the t opm os t bo ughs o f l l i a t all o la a an d t m o t o l the a r. p p r , sw ying re b ing v up u us y in At the sam e t im e there reached m y ear fro m distant Brussels

th e o t m m i o o f a far o ff t . A s f , ur ur ng s unds fe e nd ”

t u o m a t o In Sa . here p n I de hese verses , f und gesse

E l om a O ld Pr o l o u e . t tt P ge 1 3 7 . f O ( g ) viden y wri en in s e l t t are l l t o a W . h spi t . hi e nigh s s eep ess nigh s

Ka l do co t ll l m l o a 1 ei s e . f P ge 3 8 . p An unin e igib e ju b e — wo a al o co as the t tl m l . W tt l u m rds k eid s pe , i e i p ies ri en in Be gi ’ d u ri n g the p o et s vagabo nd d ays wi t h Arthur Rim baud . The line “ An d the o m t co o clo to t o w en wi h pper b und se heir br ws , to the o f a m tal lm t o r ca o o m refers use e he e , sque , w rn by w en l a o t at o u t Le elletier a the o m w a m a t b rers in h c n ry. p s ys p e s e n as a m o o m o o m ai t all it the o o f a hu r us co p siti n . Le re c s w rk m a m a o r a o o l d n f .

a W o h . a m r i tt h o t e P ge 1 66 F lse I p ess o n . ri en in t e pris n f t t - Ca m l l 1 8 . Pe i s r es , Brusse s , Ju y, 73

a t r W tt h o - Ca m 1 6 . O he s. t e o f t t P ge 7 ri en in p ris n Pe i s r es,

el o a a u lo o m the ca t . Bruss s , up n wr pping p per p r ined fr n ine “ ” o t o l m l t o m o c The hers were pris ners ike hi se f wi h wh , n e ac m o la was allo t o o m a a m all e h rning, Ver ine wed pr en de in s a co t the o f a a p ved ur , under eye gu rd .

Pa 1 68 . Rev ersibl es. A i ts t tl cat t o m ge s i e indi es , his p e — m ay. be read backward as well as in the regular o rder the m a an a l a o n wa t e ning ( if y ) is s c e r e y as the o ther . The hird an d fo u r th lines in the seco nd stanz a refer to an arrangem ent — o f the ch apel in the priso n at Mo ns the altar having been ’ lac a c l a l a alco ee la Mes p ed in pe u i r y sh ped ve . S Ver ines o Pris ns .

Rim a 1 x lanat o n . o m t o t P ge 72 . E p i P e referring Ar hur a b ud . 2 1 2 Paul Verlai ne

Th m e n it e n t la l t o a 1 e I . t m P ge 75 . p The s ine in his p e is as fo llo ws :

Si o o m m cet am iteu x n us s es . ” o am iteu x a o n o al The w rd is rg t . There equiv ent in E l ng ish .