The Avenue, Poem by Paul Verlaine

Poem by Paul Verlaine Collection Fêtes galantesThemes SatirePeriod 19th century

Painted and powdered as in the days of pastoral plays,
Frail among the enormous knots of ribbons,
She passes beneath the darkened branches,
In the avenue where the moss of the old benches turns green,
With a thousand manners and a thousand affectations
That one usually keeps for beloved parakeets.
Her long train dress is blue, and the fan
She crumples in her slender fingers with broad rings
Is cheered by one of those erotic subjects, so vague
That she smiles, while dreaming, at many a detail.
— Blonde, on the whole. The cute nose with the mouth
Incarnadine, full, and divine with unconscious
Pride. — Besides, finer than the fly
That revives the somewhat silly sparkle of the eye.

Paul Verlaine

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