"To a Woman Passing By"

Around me roared the nearly deafening street.
Tall, slim, in mourning, in majestic grief,
A woman passed me, with a splendid hand
Lifting and swinging her festoon and hem;

...

Will we not meet again this side of death?
Far from this place! too late! never perhaps!
Neither one knowing where the other goes,
O you I might have loved, as well you know!


Charles Baudelaire - The Flowers of Evil


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