Ive not forgotten, near to the town,
our white house, small but alone:
its Pomona of plaster, its Venus of old
hiding nude limbs in the meagre grove,
and the sun, superb, at evening, streaming,
behind the glass, where its sheaves were bursting,
a huge eye in a curious heaven, present
to gaze at our meal, lengthy and silent,
spreading its beautiful candle glimmer
on the frugal cloth and the rough curtain.
Je nai pas oublié, voisine de la ville
Charles Baudelaire
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.