Apres Trois Ans
When I had pushed the narrow garden-door,
Once more I stood within the green retreat;
Softly the morning sunshine lighted it,
And every flow'r a humid spangle wore.
Nothing is changed. I see it all once more:
The vine-clad arbor with its rustic seat. . . .
The waterjet still plashes silver sweet,
The ancient aspen rustles as of yore.
The roses throb as in a bygone day,
As they were wont, the tall proud lilies sway.
Each bird that lights and twitters is a friend.
I even found the Flora standing yet,
Whose plaster crumbles at the alley's end,
--Slim, 'mid the foolish scent of mignonette.
Paul Verlaine's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Apres Trois Ans by Paul Verlaine )
- 'MY FAMILY', paul fornillos
- ~ Eyes ~, Aparna Chatterjee
- The Panama Canal, Edgar Albert Guest
- Out At Pelletier's, Edgar Albert Guest
- Contrary Sary, Edgar Albert Guest
- Pixley Folks, Edgar Albert Guest
- Out In The Open, Edgar Albert Guest
- The Worry-Chaser, Edgar Albert Guest
- Henry Ford's Offhand Way, Edgar Albert Guest
- Happiness no quest at all, Pranab K. Chakraborty