I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on.
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one.
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily
And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see
The springs, the summers and the autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.
~ Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal