Three Quatrains (The Velvet Helmet), Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

The velvet helmet, gladdened by its plumes,
Folds down over the brows the curls, a leafy crown
Of frizzled gold. The cold eyes, ready for betrayal,
Dart their steel shafts beneath this blond hedge.

And the dainty ear gravely listens
To what is said of the profile. Full and rosy the cheek
Stirs at madrigals. The mouth purses,
But the little proud nose does not move at all.

And then the powerful neck whose whiteness astonishes,
Makes one dream of the opulent whitenesses of the breast.
Here is the background the luminous drawing needs:
A pink morning, with rusted trees, autumn.

Charles Cros

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