Imagine, ma petite, <br />Dear sister mine, how sweet <br />Were we to go and take our pleasure <br />Leisurely, you and I— <br />To lie, to love, to die <br />Off in that land made to your measure! <br />A land whose suns' moist rays, <br />Through the skies' misty haze, <br />Hold quite the same dark charms for me <br />As do your scheming eyes <br />When they, in their like wise, <br />Shine through your tears, perfidiously. <br /> <br />There all is order, naught amiss: <br />Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss. <br /> <br />Treasure galore—ornate, <br />Time-glossed—would decorate <br />Our chamber, where the rarest blooms <br />Would blend their lavish scent, <br />Heady and opulent, <br />With wisps of amber-like perfumes; <br />Where all the Orient's <br />Splendid, rich ornaments— <br />Deep mirrors, ceilings fine—would each, <br />In confidential tone, <br />Speak to the soul alone <br />In its own sweet and secret speech. <br /> <br />There all is order, naught amiss: <br />Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss. <br /> <br />See how the ships, asleep— <br />They who would ply the deep!— <br />Line the canals: to satisfy <br />Your merest whim they come <br />From far-flung heathendom <br />And skim the seven seas. —On high, <br />The sunset's rays enfold <br />In hyacinth and gold, <br />Field and canal; and, with the night, <br />As shadows gently fall, <br />Behold! Life sleeps, and all <br />Lies bathed in warmth and evening light. <br /> <br />There all is order, naught amiss: <br />Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.<br /><br />Charles Baudelaire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/invitation-to-the-voyage/
