(TO F. W.) 'EMBARQUONS-NOUS!' I seem to go Against my will. 'Neath alleys low I bend, and hear across the air -- Across the stream -- faint music rare, -- Whose 'cornemuse,' whose 'chalumeau'? Hark! was not that a laugh I know? Who was it, hurrying, turned to show The galley swinging by the stair? -- 'Embarquons-nous!' The silk sail flaps, light breezes blow; Frail laces flutter, satins flow; You, with the love-knot in your hair, 'Allons, embarquons pour Cythere'; You will not? Press her, then, PIERROT, -- 'Embarquons-nous!' |