On the satin back of the avalanche soft,
She falls into lingering swoons, as she dies,
While she lifteth her eyes to white visions aloft,
Which like efflorescence float up to the skies.
Charles Baudelaire, Tristesses de la lune from Fleurs du Mal
She falls into lingering swoons, as she dies,
While she lifteth her eyes to white visions aloft,
Which like efflorescence float up to the skies.
Charles Baudelaire, Tristesses de la lune from Fleurs du Mal
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