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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.


By Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867)

SWEET music sweeps me like the sea

Toward my pale star,

Whether the clouds be there or all the air be free

I sail afar.

With front outspread and swelling breasts,

On swifter sail

I bound through the steep waves’ foamy crests

Under night’s veil.

Vibrate within me I feel all the passions that lash

A bark in distress:

By the blast I am lulled—by the tempest’s wild crash

On the salt wilderness.

Then comes the dead calm—mirrored there

I behold my despair.