by: Charles Baudelaire
- N Nature’s temple living pillars rise,
- And words are murmured none have understood,
- And man must wander through a tangled wood
- Of symbols watching him with friendly eyes.
- As long-drawn echoes heard far-off and dim
- Mingle to one deep sound and fade away;
- Vast as the night and brilliant as the day,
- Colour and sound and perfume speak to him.
- Some perfumes are as fragrant as a child,
- Sweet as the sound of hautboys, meadow-green;
- Others, corrupted, rich, exultant, wild,
- Have all the expansion of things infinite:
- As amber, incense, musk, and benzoin,
- Which sing the sense’s and the soul’s delight.