Fr\u00eale cr\u00e9ation de la fuyante aurore,
\nOuvre-toi comme un prisme au soleil qui le dore ;
\nVa dire ta naissance au liseron d\u2019un jour ;
\nVa, tu n\u2019as que le temps de deviner l\u2019amour !<\/p>\n
Et c\u2019est mieux, c\u2019est bien mieux que de le trop conna\u00eetre ;
\nMieux de ne pas survivre au jour qui le vit na\u00eetre.
\nHappe sa douce amorce, et que ton aile, enfant,
\nJoue avec ce flambeau ; rien ne te le d\u00e9fend.
\nN\u00e9 dans le feu, ton vol en cercles s\u2019y d\u00e9ploie,
\nEt s\u00e8me des anneaux de lumi\u00e8re et de joie.
\nLe fil de tes hasards est court, mais il est d\u2019or !
\nNul regret ne pendra lugubre sur ton sort ;
\nNul adieu ne viendra g\u00e9mir dans l\u2019harmonie
\nDe ton jour de musique et d\u2019ivresse infinie ;
\nCe que tu vas aimer durera tes instans ;
\nTu ne verras le deuil ni les rides du temps.
\nLes feuillets de ton sort sont des feuilles de rose
\nFi\u00e9vreuse de soleil et d\u2019encens, quel destin !
\nAtome d\u00e9lect\u00e9 dans le miel qui l\u2019arrose,
\nSonne ta bien-venue au banquet du matin.<\/p>\n
Je t\u2019envie ! et Dieu t\u2019aime, innocent \u00e9ph\u00e9m\u00e8re ;
\nTu nais sans d\u00e9chirer le beau flanc de ta m\u00e8re ;
\nCe penser triste et doux ne te fait point de pleurs :
\nIl ne t\u2019impose pas comme un remords de vivre.
\nTu n\u2019as point \u00e0 tra\u00eener ton c\u0153ur lourd comme un livre.
\nHeureux rien ! ta carri\u00e8re est au bout de ces fleurs.
\nBois ta vie \u00e0 leur ame, et que ta prompte haleine
\nGo\u00fbte \u00e0 tous les parfums dont s\u2019abreuve la plaine.
\nH\u00e2te-toi : si le ciel commence \u00e0 se couvrir,
\nUne goutte de pluie inondera tes ailes :
\nAvant d\u2019avoir v\u00e9cu, tu ne veux pas mourir,
\nToi ! Les fleurs vont au soir : ne tombe qu\u2019apr\u00e8s elles.
\nBonjour ! bonheur ! adieu ! Trois mots pour ton soleil.
\nEt pour nous, que de nuits jusqu\u2019au dernier sommeil !
\nLe long vivre n\u2019apprend que des fables railleuses.
\nTristement recueillis sous nos ailes frileuses,
\nNous \u00e9pions l\u2019espoir, qui n\u2019ourdit qu\u2019un regret :
\nEt l\u2019espoir n\u2019ouvre pas sa belle chrysalide ;
\nEt c\u2019est un fruit coul\u00e9 sous son \u00e9corce vide ;
\nEt le vrai, c\u2019est la mort ! \u2014 et j\u2019attends son secret.<\/p>\n
Oh ! ce sera la vie ; oh ! ce sera vous-m\u00eame,
\nR\u00eave, \u00e0 qui ma pri\u00e8re a tant dit : Je vous aime.
\nCe sera, pleur par pleur, et tourment par tourment,
\nDes ames en douleurs le chaste enfantement !<\/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":[534],"poems-book":[538],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[208],"class_list":["post-11702","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-534","poems-book-les-pleurs","poete-marceline-desbordes-valmore"],"yoast_head":"\n