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Quantity: Add to cart. Notify me when this product is available. Manuscripts which never cease to fascinate. Once the manuscripts had been reassembled and ordered chronologically, our graphic artists set about removing some of the ravages of time and neglect so that readers might enjoy the delicious sensation of almost having the originals in their hands. Certain manuscripts still remain in private collections whose whereabouts have been difficult to establish.

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He had conceived the idea while he was sharing a room in London with the poet Germain Nouveau, and was putting the finishing touches to certain poems in Illuminations. The slipcase and cover ornamentations are iron gilded, and the pages are printed using vegetal ink on environmentally friendly paper 1, numbered copies Hand-numbered from 1 to 1,, each book is presented in a 14x10 inch slipcase, bound, and sewn using only the finest materials.

Press coverage. Write a review. You lowed just so below those plunging cliffs.

Chantons! Tous Les Jours | French Songs | Out of the Ark

Just so you broke about their riven flanks. Just so the wind flung your spray forth to wash Her feet which graced your banks. Recall the evening we sailed out in silence? On waves beneath the skies, afar and wide, Naught but the rowers' rhythmic oars we heard Stroking your tuneful tide. Then of a sudden tones untold on earth, Resounded round the sounding spellbound sea. Pause in your flight, Favorable hours, and stay! Let us enjoy the transient delight That fills our fairest day.

Unhappy crowds cry out to you in prayers. Flow, Time, and set them free.

Little Eurekas: A Decade’s Thoughts on Poetry

Run through their days and through their ravening cares! But leave the happy be. In vain I pray the hours to linger on And Time slips into flight. I tell this night: "Be slower!

Let's love, then! Love, and feel while feel we can The moment on its run. There is no shore of Time, no port of Man. It flows, and we go on. Covetous Time! Our mighty drunken moments When love pours forth huge floods of happiness; Can it be true that they depart no faster Than days of wretchedness?

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Why can we not keep some trace at the least? Gone wholly? Lost forever in the black?

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Will Time that gave them, Time that now elides them Never once bring them back? Eternity, naught, past, dark gulfs: what do You do with days of ours which you devour? Shall you not bring back those things sublime? Return the raptured hour? Let the deep keening winds, the sighing reeds, Let the light balm you blow through cliff and grove, Let all that is beheld or heard or breathed Say only "they did love.

O lac!

Bertrand, Claudine

Un soir, t'en souvient-il? Nous voguions en silence; On n'entendait au loin, sur l'onde et sous les cieux, Que le bruit des rameurs qui frappaient en cadence Tes flots harmonieux. Aimons donc, aimons donc!

les fonctions de la poésie

L'homme n'a point de port, le temps n'a point de rive; Il coule, et nous passons! Ce temps qui les donna, ce temps qui les efface, Ne nous les rendra plus? Parlez: nous rendrez-vous ces extases sublimes Que vous nous ravissez? Qu'il soit dans ton repos, qu'il soit dans tes orages, Beau lac, et dans l'aspect de tes riants coteaux, Et dans ces noirs sapins, et dans ces rocs sauvages Qui pendent sur tes eaux!