I am the Empire in the last of its decline, <br />That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,-the while <br />Composing indolent acrostics, in a style <br />Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line. <br /> <br />The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile <br />Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine. <br />Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign <br />The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,- <br /> <br />Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire! <br />Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, has done laughing, pray? <br />Ah, all is drunk,-all eaten! Nothing more to say! <br /> <br />Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire; <br />Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one; <br />Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!<br /><br />Paul Verlaine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/melancholy-40/
