I've not forgotten, near to the town,
our white house, small but alone:
its Pomona of plaster, its Venus of old
hiding nude limbs in the meagre grove,
and the sun, superb, at evening, streaming,
behind the glass, where its sheaves were bursting,
a huge eye in a curious heaven, present
to gaze at our meal, lengthy and silent,
spreading its beautiful candle glimmer
on the frugal cloth and the rough curtain.

Charles Baudelaire

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/je-n-ai-pas-oubli-voisine-de-la-ville-i-ve-not-forgotten-near-the-town/