Paul Verlaine

(1844-1896 / France)

Paul Verlaine Poems

1. Jadis - Prologue 3/30/2010
2. Naguere - Prologue 3/30/2010
3. Oft Do I Dream 3/30/2010
4. Oh, Heavy, Heavy My Despair 3/30/2010
5. The Rosy Hearth 3/30/2010
6. The Scene Behind The Carriage Window Panes 3/30/2010
7. The False Fair Days 3/30/2010
8. The Keyboard, Over Which Two Slim Hands Float 3/30/2010
9. What Sayest Thou, Traveller 3/30/2010
10. Tis The Feast Of Corn 3/30/2010
11. Since Shade Relents 3/30/2010
12. Nevermore 3/30/2010
13. It Shall Be, Then, Upon A Summer's Day 3/30/2010
14. A La Promenade 3/30/2010
15. Streets 3/30/2010
16. En Sourdine 3/30/2010
17. L' Allee 3/30/2010
18. Il Bacio 3/30/2010
19. Impression Fausse 3/30/2010
20. It Is You 3/30/2010
21. L'Amour Par Terre 3/30/2010
22. Poemes Saturniens - Prologue 3/30/2010
23. Sur L'Herbe 3/30/2010
24. Le Rossignol 3/30/2010
25. Mandoline 3/30/2010
26. O'Er The Wood's Brow 3/30/2010
27. Le Faune 3/30/2010
28. It Rains In My Heart (Il Pleure Dans Mon Coeur) 3/30/2010
29. Give Ear Unto The Gentle Lay 3/30/2010
30. Before Your Light Quite Fail 3/30/2010
31. Mon Reve Familier 3/30/2010
32. Apres Trois Ans 3/30/2010
33. Melancholy 3/30/2010
34. Un Grand Sommeil Noir 3/30/2010
35. Vers Libres 3/30/2010
36. Langueur 3/30/2010
37. Son, Thou Must Love Me 3/30/2010
38. Spleen 3/30/2010
39. Femme Et Chatte 2/12/2014
40. It Weeps In My Heart 3/30/2010
Best Poem of Paul Verlaine

The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness.

Also, at times a jealous insect's dart
Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white
Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight
Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart.

Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling,
The women who hung dreaming on our arms
Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms
That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.

Read the full of The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

A Une Femme

To you these lines for the consoling grace
Of your great eyes wherein a soft dream shines,
For your pure soul, all-kind!-to you these lines
From the black deeps of mine unmatched distress.

'Tis that the hideous dream that doth oppress
My soul, alas! its sad prey ne'er resigns,
But like a pack of wolves down mad inclines
Goes gathering heat upon my reddened trace!

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