Regarde longuement celui qui meurt. Voil\u00e0
\nCe que la guerre atroce \u00e0 tout instant consomme :
\nElle puise en ce corps son effroyable \u00e9clat ;
\nLa gloire, c\u2019est Verdun, c\u2019est la Marne et la Somme,
\nUne arm\u00e9e, c\u2019est un flot compact et rugissant
\nO\u00f9 nul visage encor n\u2019\u00e9merge et ne se nomme,
\nO\u00f9 des milliers de c\u0153urs ont confondu leur sang,
\n\ufeffMais un mourant, c\u2019est un seul homme !<\/p>\n
Un seul homme \u00e9tendu : aust\u00e8re immensit\u00e9 !
\nUn seul, et tout le poids de la douleur sur lui !
\nUn seul supplici\u00e9 sur qui tombe la nuit
\nDans les champs. Seul vraiment. Pour lui s\u2019est arr\u00eat\u00e9
\nCet unanime \u00e9lan de col\u00e8re et d\u2019audace
\nQui l\u2019emportait, puissant, multipli\u00e9, tent\u00e9,
\n\u00c9pars dans son effort, son espoir et sa race !
\nIl est seul, il n\u2019est plus de ce groupe irrit\u00e9
\nQui harc\u00e8le \u00e2prement l\u2019obstacle, et l\u2019escalade !
\nIl est devenu seul. C\u2019est le plus grand malade.
\nLa mort d\u00e9lie en lui les cordes du h\u00e9ros.
\nIl est tout seul, avec sa chair, son sang, ses os,<\/p>\n
Et toute sa ch\u00e9tive et faible exactitude.
\nNul n\u2019est semblable \u00e0 lui : qui meurt n\u2019a pas d\u2019\u00e9gaux.
\nRien ne peut ressembler \u00e0 cette solitude !<\/p>\n
\u00d4 corps mourant \u00e0 qui plus rien n\u2019est mari\u00e9 !<\/p>\n
\u2014 L\u2019Histoire passe avec ses canons, ses lauriers,
\nSon tremblement qui moud les routes et les mondes !
\nMais cet enfant qui meurt ne sait. La lune est ronde
\nAu haut du calme ciel o\u00f9 tous les yeux humains
\nSe posent sans conflit, cependant que les mains
\nS\u2019acharnent \u00e0 tuer. O\u00f9 sont les camarades
\nDe cet enfant qui meurt ? Mais les reconna\u00eet-on
\nCes guerriers dans la nuit, ces obstin\u00e9s pi\u00e9tons
\nQui n\u2019ont jamais fini de servir ? \u00c0 t\u00e2tons
\nIls continuent l\u2019\u00e9pique et sombre promenade.
\n\u2014 Et que pourraient-ils dire \u00e0 celui-l\u00e0 qui meurt ? \u2014
\nQue vous avez vaincu, cher \u00eatre, on est vainqueur
\nQuand on est ce mourant sous les astres. Nagu\u00e8re
\nUn homme seul, pareil \u00e0 vous, sans qu\u2019on l\u2019aid\u00e2t
\nEt sans que nul scrut\u00e2t son supr\u00eame myst\u00e8re,
\nMourut, pareil \u00e0 vous, sans se plaindre, les yeux
\nSemblables \u00e0 vos yeux pleins d\u2019espace. \u00d4 soldats,
\nDont le sang juv\u00e9nile a coul\u00e9 sur la terre,
\nSoyez b\u00e9nis, chacun, comme peut l\u2019\u00eatre un dieu,
\nChrist de la monstrueuse et de la juste guerre !<\/p>\n
Juillet 1917.<\/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":[174],"poems-book":[595],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[611],"class_list":["post-13155","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-174","poems-book-les-forces-eternelles","poete-anna-de-noailles"],"yoast_head":"\n