N'est ce pas qu'il est doux or Is It Not Pleasant by Baudelaire

"N'est ce pas qu'il est doux"

by Charles Baudelaire

Is it not pleasant, now we are tired,
and tarnished, like other men, to search for those fires
in the furthest East, where, again, we might see
morning's new dawn, and, in mad history,
hear the echoes, that vanish behind us, the sighs
of the young loves, that God gives us, at the start of our lives?