Charles Baudelaire

Flowers of Evil

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    To be the degradation of my jaded mate,
    And since I cannot like a love-leaf wantonly
    Consign this stunted monster to the glowing grate,"
    "I'll cause thine overwhelming hatred to rebound
    Upon the cursed tool of thy most wicked spite.
    Forsooth, the branches of this wretched tree I'll wound
    And rob its pestilential blossoms of their might!"
    So thus, she giveth vent unto her foaming ire,
    And knowing not the changeless statutes of all times,
    Herself, amid the flames of hell, prepares the pyre;
    The consecrated penance of maternal crimes.
    Yet 'fieath th' invisible shelter of an Angel's wing
    This sunlight-loving infant disinherited,
    Exhales from all he eats and drinks, and everything
    The ever sweet ambrosia and the nectar red.
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