Pensionnaires

By Paul Verlaine 

The one was fifteen years old, the other sixteen     
And they both slept in the same little room.         
It happened on an oppressive September eve-          
Fragile things! blue-eyed with cheeks of ivory.      
To cool their frail bodies each removed              
Her dainty chemise fresh with the perfume of amber.  
The younger raised her hands and bent backwards,     
And her sister, her hands on her breasts, kissed her.
Then fell on her knees, and, in a frenzy,            
Grasped her limbs to her cheek, and her mouth        
Caressed the blonde gold within the grey shadows:    
And during all that time the younger counted         
On her darling fingers the promised waltzes,         
And, blushing, smiled innocently.