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The Offended Moon - (Twelve Translations From Charles Baudelaire)
By John Collings Squire, Sir
O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!
Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind,
Worshipped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind
Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,
Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale,
Or lovers on their happy beds reclined,
Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined,
'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil
Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the grass
As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn
The faded charms of thine Endymion?...
"O child of this sick century, I see
Thy grey-haired mother leering in her glass
And plastering the breast that suckled thee!"
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