VERLAINE'S "FORGOTTEN AIRS"
No. I
"The wind in the plain
Suspends its breath."—Favart.
'Tis ecstasy languishing,
Amorous fatigue,
Of woods all the shudderings
Embraced by the breeze,
'Tis the choir of small voices
Toward the gray trees.
Oh, the frail and fresh murmuring!
The twitter and buzz,
The soft cry resembling
That's expired by the grass....
Oh, the roll of the pebbles
'Neath waters that pass!
Oh, this soul that is groaning
In sleepy complaint!
In us is it moaning?
In me and in you?
Low anthem exhaling
While soft falls the dew.
VERLAINE'S "FORGOTTEN AIRS"
No. VIII
In the unending
Dullness of this land,
Uncertain the snow
Is gleaming like sand.
No kind of brightness
In copper-hued sky,
The moon you might see
Now live and now die.