(Translated "from the French of Charles Pierre Baudelaire")

Like an ill angel tawny-eyed,
I will return, and stilly glide
With shadows of the lunar dusk
Into thy chamber aired with musk,

And I will give thee, ere I go,
The kisses of a moon of snow,
And long caresses, chill, unsleeping,
Of serpents on the marbles creeping.

When lifts again the bloodless dawn,
From out thy bed I shall be gone—
Where all, till eve, is void and drear:

Let others reign by love and ruth
Over thy life and all thy youth,
But I am fain to rule by fear.