Treasure Island

Paul Verlaine

(1844-1896 / France)

En Sourdine


Tranquil in the twilight dense
By the spreading branches made,
Let us breathe the influence
Of the silence and the shade.

Let your heart melt into mine,
And your soul reach out to me,
'Mid the languor's of the pine
And the sighing arbute-tree.

Close your eyes, your hands let be
Folded on your slumbering heart,
From whose hold all treachery
Drive forever, and all art.

Let us with the hour accord!
Let us let the gentle wind,
Rippling in the sunburnt sward,
Bring us to a patient mind!

And when Night across the air
Shall her solemn shadow fling,
Touching voice of our despair,
Long the nightingale shall sing.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (En Sourdine by Paul Verlaine )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A Lesson From Golf, Edgar Albert Guest
  2. Man's Experience, Edgar Albert Guest
  3. Under A Tree, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. Business, Edgar Albert Guest
  5. A Place At The Top, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. Life And Hereafter, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. Can't Frighten Them, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. The Man Of His Word, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. The Man I Like, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. The Road Builder, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]