Alphonse Daudet. (№ 397525)

I beg of you, angel baby,
Visit goodbye again
And cry with you at the grave,
Where lies our love!
As a fine piece of funerary!
It is the purity of this world!
Like a flower, isthmuses in the heat
And drooping over a moisture mirror
Like in dreams of a bright past -
Pale young brow
So she wilts sadly.