One of my favorites by Baudelaire.
A heart like mine will not be satisfied
With those vignette-style lovelies, weatherworn-
Fingers in castanets, feel tightly tied
In buskin-boots-of worthless century born.
I leave to Gavarni's anemic brush
His cooing flock of hospice belles- wan, weak:
I find among those roses' pallid blush
No bloom to match that red ideal I seek.
My chasm-heart needs Aeschyl…
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