Mon Dieu! que ces plaines charmantes,
\nCes grands pr\u00e9s si beaux et si verts,
\nNous pr\u00e9sentent d’appas divers
\nParmi leurs richesses brillantes!
\nCe doux air, ces vives odeurs,
\nLe pompeux \u00e9clat de ces fleurs
\nDont l’herbe se colore,
\nSemble-t-il pas dire \u00e0 nos yeux
\nQue le palais de Flore
\nSe fait voir vraiment en ces lieux?<\/p>\n
C’est l\u00e0 qu’on entend le murmure
\nDe ces agr\u00e9ables ruisseaux,
\nQui joignent leurs flots et les eaus
\nAu vif \u00e9mail de la verdure.
\nC’est l\u00e0 qu’en paisibles replis,
\nDans les beaux vases de leurs lits,
\nIls arrosent les herbes,
\nEt que leurs doux gazouillements,
\nDe leurs ondes superbes
\nBravent les bruits les plus charmants.<\/p>\n
Je les vois, au haut des montagnes,
\nVenir, d’un cours pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9,
\nOffrir leur tribut argent\u00e9
\nDans le beau sein de ces campagnes;
\nEt l\u00e0, d’un pas respectueux,
\nTrainer en cercles tortueux
\nLeurs sources vagabondes;
\nEt, comme charm\u00e9s des beaut\u00e9s
\nDe ces plaines fecondes,
\nS’y r\u00e9pandre de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
L\u00e0, ces m\u00e9andres agr\u00e9ables,
\nDescendant, et puis remontant,
\nFont, dans leur voyage inconstant,
\nCent labyrinthes d\u00e9lectables.
\nSouvent leurs flots, en s’entrouvrant,
\nFont cent iles fleuries;
\nTant\u00f4t, quittant leur lit natal,
\nIls bordent les prairies
\nD’une ceinture de cristal.<\/p>\n
L\u00e0, quand le jour rapporte au monde
\nLe beau tribut de la clart\u00e9,
\nEt que l’ombre et l’obscurit\u00e9
\nRentrent dans leur grotte profonde;
\nL\u00e0, dis-je, des portes du ciel
\nOn voit de perles et de miel
\nChoir une riche pluie,
\nEt Flore, pour ce doux tr\u00e9sor,
\nOuvrir, toute ravie,
\nCent petits bassins d’ambre et d’or.<\/p>\n
L\u00e0, l’on voit aussi sur les herbes
\nVoltiger ces vivantes fleurs,
\nLes papillons dont les couleurs
\nSont si fr\u00eales et si superbes :
\nC’est l\u00e0 qu’en escadrons divers
\nIls r\u00e9pandent dedans les airs
\nMille beaut\u00e9s nouvelles,
\nEt que les essaims abus\u00e9s
\nVont chercher sous leurs ailes
\nLes pleurs que l’Aurore a vers\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
C’est l\u00e0 qu’en nombreuses all\u00e9es
\nL’on voit mille saules \u00e9pais,
\nDe remparts superbes et frais
\nCeindre ces plaines \u00e9maill\u00e9es :
\nOui, je les vois de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s,
\nEn laissant l’\u00e9clat argent\u00e9
\nDe leurs feuillages sombres,
\nComme vouloir \u00e0 ces ruisseaux,
\nQui dorment sous leurs ombres,
\nFaire d’officieux rideaux.<\/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":[577],"poems-book":[573],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[578],"class_list":["post-12256","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-577","poems-book-le-paysage","poete-jean-racine"],"yoast_head":"\n