It Is the Languorous Ecstasy, Poem by Paul Verlaine

Poem by Paul Verlaine Collection Romances sans parolesThemes LovePeriod 19th century

It is the languorous ecstasy,
It is love’s weary langour,
It is all the shivers of the woods
Amid the embrace of breezes,
It is, toward the gray branches,
The choir of little voices.

O the frail and fresh murmur!
It babbles and it whispers,
It resembles the soft cry
That the stirred grass breathes out…
You would say, beneath the turning water,
The muffled roll of pebbles.

This soul that laments
In this dormant plaint,
It is ours, is it not?
Mine, say, and yours,
Whose humble hymn exhales
Through this warm evening, quite low?

Paul Verlaine

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