Es-tu d\u2019Europe ? es-tu d\u2019Asie ?
\nEs-tu songe ? es-tu po\u00e9sie ?
\nEs-tu nature, ou fantaisie,
\nOu fant\u00f4me, ou r\u00e9alit\u00e9 ?
\nDans tes yeux l\u2019Inde se d\u00e9c\u00e8le,
\nSur tes cheveux le Nord ruisselle ;
\nTout climat a son \u00e9tincelle
\nDans le disque de ta beaut\u00e9 !<\/p>\n
S\u0153ur des Psych\u00e9s, ou fille d\u2019\u00c8ve !
\nQuand ma jeunesse avait sa s\u00e9ve,
\nC\u2019\u00e9tait sous ces traits que le r\u00eave
\nM\u2019incarnait en un mille amours ;
\nJe leur disais : \u00ab Je vous adore !
\n\u00bb Ne disparaissez pas encore !\u2026 \u00bb
\nMais ils fuyaient avec l\u2019aurore,
\nEt tu renais avec les jours !<\/p>\n
Oh ! pourquoi, divine inconnue,
\nPourquoi si tard es-tu venue,
\nDu ciel, de l\u2019air ou de la nue,
\nPasser et luire devant moi ?
\nDu regard je t\u2019aurais suivie !
\n\u00d4 Dieu ! qui me rendra ma vie ?
\nMa part de temps me fut ravie,
\nPuisque je v\u00e9cus avant toi.<\/p>\n
Jour \u00e0 jour, d\u2019ivresse en ivresse,
\nTu m\u2019aurais conduit comme en laisse,
\nSans autre cha\u00eene qu\u2019une tresse,
\nDepuis l\u2019aube jusqu\u2019au tr\u00e9pas ;
\nSur tout l\u2019univers dispers\u00e9e,
\nEt dans mille coupes vers\u00e9e,
\nMa vie, immobile pens\u00e9e,
\nN\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 qu\u2019un pas sur tes pas !<\/p>\n
Retour perdu vers l\u2019impossible !
\nLe Temps, sous son aile inflexible,
\nA pass\u00e9 ma vie \u00e0 son crible,
\nAinsi qu\u2019un rude moissonneur ;
\nUn peu de terre amoncel\u00e9e
\nDira bient\u00f4t dans la vall\u00e9e :
\n\u00ab De ses jours la gerbe est foul\u00e9e,
\n\u00bb Et voil\u00e0 la part du glaneur ! \u00bb<\/p>\n
Ces heures, en cercle encha\u00een\u00e9es,
\nQui dansaient au seuil des ann\u00e9es,
\nSortent du ch\u0153ur d\u00e9couronn\u00e9es,
\nEt leur aspect se rembrunit ;
\nLa derni\u00e8re vers moi s\u2019avance,
\nEt du doigt me montre en silence
\nLa couche o\u00f9 le sommeil commence
\nSur un oreiller de granit.<\/p>\n
Est-ce l\u2019heure d\u2019ouvrir son \u00e2me
\n\u00c0 ces songes aux traits de femme,
\nQui br\u00fblent d\u2019un poison de flamme
\nLes yeux d\u2019abord, le c\u0153ur apr\u00e8s,
\nQuand des jours l\u2019espace et le nombre
\nSe borne au petit cercle d\u2019ombre
\nQue d\u00e9crit, sur un tertre sombre,
\nLa fl\u00e8che d\u2019un jeune cypr\u00e8s ?<\/p>\n
Mais toi, si tu viens jeune encore,
\nAu bras de l\u2019\u00e9poux qui t\u2019adore,
\nVoir une marguerite \u00e9clore
\nDe ce gazon qui fleurit tard,
\nDis, en marchant sur ma poussi\u00e8re :
\n\u00ab Celui qui dort sous cette pierre
\n\u00bb Conserve au ciel, dans sa paupi\u00e8re,
\n\u00bb Un rayon qui fut mon regard ! \u00bb<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[481],"poems-book":[478],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[483],"class_list":["post-10781","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-481","poems-book-meditations-poetiques-inedites","poete-alphonse-de-lamartine"],"yoast_head":"\n