The shadows grow long, yet the flowers still bloom, Amongst the wildness, a sweet scent of perfume; I tread softly, where wild things weave, In the coolness that summer clouds leave. Mild is the air with an innocent breeze, When dusk paints the sky with soft lilacs and trees, I linger beneath the brightening stars, In nature’s embrace, dissolve all my scars.
- Arthur Rimbaud