The night glides, chill and murk, through Paris. In its shades two trembling shadows lurk, two meagre little shades that shiver frigidly, then glide away through the dark. -- Sweet Sire, I have sworn. This night we must depart. -- 'Tis well, but follow, follow. From little street to little street two little, meagre shades stir in the cold, -- then stop. There, before a half-buried hovel, a voice, a little voice, faintly acrid, bitter-sweet, a little voice that steeps itself in tears. -- I am neither lion nor wolf nor fox. I am a man. Croy, gently knock at that door and call, "Dame Simonne of the chains!" -- Dame Simonne of the chains! -- Good. Listen! Listen! . . . Ask if yesterday some member of her household did not die. -- Dame Simonne, was Death here yesterday? -- Alas, sweet Lord, then you have heard, you also. My son Joachim, my son, last night. -- I am neither lion nor wolf nor fox. I am a man. Croy, aid me, comfort me! Joachim! . . . Croy! I am neither lion nor wolf nor fox, being all three. Croy, I'm a man. Adieu, O little being! . . . Joachim! Come. So be it! Let us go. Dame Simonne has been to me . . . Dame Simonne was to me . . . Croy, I am human. Croy, I weep a little life . . . Joachim! Alas! . . . my little child. . . . Night, thick and cold and murk, through Paris glides, one spies two little meagre shades that slide and sway in the dark. . . . O that little voice, steeped in tears, steeped in tears. . . . O those little broken cries! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE: THE MEDITERRANEAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE COMING OF HIS FEET by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN FORMALITY AND THE SOUL: 2. JAMES MACNEIL WHISTLER by KARL W. BIGELOW SONNET ON MOOR PARK - WRITTEN AT LEE PRIORY, AUGUST 10, 1826 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE by ROBERT BURNS TO A LADY WHO PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |