Melancholy

Paul Verlaine

 Next Poem          

I am the Empire in the last of its decline,
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,--the while
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.

The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile
Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine.
Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign
The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,-

Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire!
Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, has done laughing, pray?
Ah, all is drunk,--all eaten! Nothing more to say!

Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire;
Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one;
Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!

Next Poem 

 Back to Paul Verlaine
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.

Comments2
  • felipafitz

    Feels like a journey through a crumbling empire 🏰😔

    • naomiinman4454

      MAN, I REMEMBER READING THIS ONE WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, THOSE "VAPOID VERSES" THROWN IN THE FIRE REALLY STUCK WITH ME. STILL GIVES ME CHILLS TODAY!