A particularly fascinating and tragic figure from the height of the Paris Bohemian era, Charles Cros was an inventor, mathematician, and poet. While his poetry mostly languishes in obscurity, he is well known for one poem written about absinthe.

With Flowers and With Woman

    With Flowers, and with Women,
    With Absinthe, and with this Fire,
    We can divert ourselves a while,
    Act out our part in some drama.

    Absinthe, on a winter evening,
    Lights up in green the sooty soul;
    And Flowers, on the beloved,
    Grow fragrant before the clear Fire.

    Later, kisses lose their charm
    Having lasted several seasons;
    And after mutual betrayals
    We part one day without a tear.

    We burn letters and bouquets.
    And fire takes our bower;
    And if sad life is salvaged
    Still there is Absinthe and its hiccups..

    The portraits are eaten by flames..
    Shrivelled fingers tremble..
    We die from sleeping long
    With Flowers, and with Women.