VIII

O Death, old Captain, it is time, put forth!

We have grown weary of the gloomy north;

Though sea and sky are black as ink, lift sail!

Our hearts are full of light and will not fail.

O pour thy sleepy poison in the cup!

The fire within the heart so burns us up

That we would wander Hell and Heaven through,

Deep in the Unknown seeking something _new_!

Baudelaire: His Prose and Poetry · 第 167 / 288 题