Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
Charles Baudelaire & Cyril Scott
They stand before me now, those eyes that shine,
No doubt inspired by an Angel wise;
They stand, those God-like brothers that are mine,
And pour their diamond fires in mine eyes.
From all transgressions, from all snares, they save,
Towards the Path of Joy they guide my ways;
They are my servants, and I am their slave;
And all my soul, this living torch obeys.
Ye charming Eyes—ye have those mystic beams,
Of candles, burning in full day; the sun
Awakes, yet kills not their fantastic gleams:
Ye sing the Awak'ning, they the dark oblivion;
The Awak'ning of my spirit ye proclaim,
O stars—no sun can ever kill your flame!