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O’er The Wood’s Brow
Paul Verlaine
O’er the wood’s brow, Pale, the moon stares; In every bough Wandering airs Faintly suspire. . . . O heart’s-desire! Two willow-trees Waver and weep, One in the breeze, One in the deep Glass of the stream. . . . Dream we our dream! An infinite Resignedness Rains where the white Mists opalesce In the moon-shower. . . . Stay, perfect hour!
Translated by Gertrude Hall
