"The white moon"
The author, Paul Verlaine.
The Book, The Good Song (1870).

The white moon
Shines in the woods,
From each branch
Leaves a voice
Under the oar...

Oh, beloved friend.

The pond reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Black willow
Where the wind cries...

Let us dream, it is the hour.

A vast and tender
Appeasing
Seem to go down
From strength
That the star makes iridescent...

It is the exquisite hour.

Go to this poem in French.
Return to Writer's Box.
Return to Paul Verlaine.

This poem simply rolls off the tongue in its native French. Even if you don't know French, I urge you to take another look, this time in its original language, which is also located on the Anne'Xed Network.  It really is much better en francais.