Saint Georges,
\nLe pr\u00e9sident de ton serment,
\nSe carre et se rengorge
\nSuperbement
\nQuand au sortir de la grande messe
\nIl d\u00e9file d\u2019un pas altier,
\nTel dimanche de la kermesse,
\nSous l\u2019or bougeant de son collier.<\/p>\n
On le regarde
\nEn son orgueil marcher ;
\nLes solennels et francs archers
\nDu grand serment
\nLui font sa garde ;
\nL\u2019heure est claire, les cieux vermeils :
\nVraiment
\nC\u2019est \u00e0 croire qu\u2019il porte
\nSur son torse bomb\u00e9 et ses \u00e9paules fortes
\nDes morceaux de soleil.<\/p>\n
En un panier bord\u00e9 de soie
\nSont \u00e9tendus son arc et son carquois ;
\nUne tige de buis
\nDont le sommet lentement bouge,
\nTend, devant lui,
\nL\u2019\u00e9bouriffant plumage rouge
\nDe l\u2019oiseau d\u2019or qu\u2019il abattit.<\/p>\n
Il traverse la rue aux Laines,
\nLa cour du prince et le vieux bourg ;
\nIl marcherait \u00e0 grands pas lourds,
\nSans perdre haleine,
\nJusqu\u2019au soleil couch\u00e9.
\nMais tout \u00e0 coup les tintamarres
\nDe la fanfare
\nLui font accueil, sur le march\u00e9,
\nLes pistons crient et les tubas font rage
\nSans nul r\u00e9pit, sans nul arr\u00eat,
\nEt l\u2019on prom\u00e8ne du tapage
\nDe cabaret en cabaret.<\/p>\n
Bi\u00e8res rouges sous couronne de mousse
\nPour vous lamper gaiment
\n\u00c0 la sant\u00e9 du grand serment,
\nChacun s\u2019en vient \u00e0 la rescousse ;
\nOn assi\u00e8ge les comptoirs clairs
\nAvec des brocs tendus en l\u2019air.
\nLes servantes passent et passent,
\nMoites de h\u00e2te et de sueur
\nEt refoulant \u00e0 coups de croupe
\nParmi les cris et les rires, la troupe
\nToujours plus dense des buveurs.<\/p>\n
Le pr\u00e9sident du grand serment
\nEst cahot\u00e9 au va et vient des houles
\nEt des vacarmes de la foule ;
\nOn le bouscule en des bagarres
\n\u00c0 hue, \u00e0 dia, jusqu\u2019au moment
\nO\u00f9 la concassante fanfare
\nPar le chemin qui suit la gare,
\nLe m\u00e8ne au clos du grand serment.<\/p>\n
Le tir \u00e0 l\u2019arc paisible et seul
\nS\u2019\u00e9tend, l\u00e0-bas, pr\u00e8s des tilleuls
\nQui versent l\u2019ombre \u00e0 qui la cherche
\nEt d\u2019o\u00f9 s\u2019\u00e9l\u00e8ve en contre bas
\nD\u2019un grand jet blanc, ainsi qu\u2019un m\u00e2t,
\nLa perche.<\/p>\n
Avec solennit\u00e9, l\u2019oiseau
\nTourbillon d\u2019or, et tourbillon d\u2019\u00e9cume,
\nEst replac\u00e9, l\u00e0-haut ;
\nEt tel est l\u2019ordre et la coutume
\nQue si la fl\u00e8che d\u2019un archer
\nS\u2019en vient avant la fl\u00e8che pr\u00e9sidentielle
\nToucher
\nLa parure immat\u00e9rielle
\nDu bel oiseau,
\nL\u00e0 haut,
\nLe chef du grand serment
\nPayera jusques au soir,
\nAbondamment,
\n\u00c0 boire.<\/p>\n
Et l\u2019on se so\u00fble en son honneur,
\nEt l\u2019on trinque, et l\u2019on crie, et l\u2019on hurle, et la peur
\nS\u2019accouple en des coins d\u2019ombre avec la joie.
\nFilles, qui traversez par bandes les chemins,
\nLes gars aux violentes mains
\nVous agrippent comme des proies.
\nL\u2019ombre se fait autour du vieil enclos
\nO\u00f9 commande Saint Georges
\nLe dernier air des fanfares se cl\u00f4t,
\nLes cors s\u2019enrouent et les bugles d\u00e9gorgent
\nUn refrain las qui n\u2019en peut plus.
\nArchers, vos bras sont lourds, vos doigts moulus,
\nEt vos regards se voilent,
\nEt vous ne savez plus si vous visez
\nL\u2019oiseau superbe et pavois\u00e9
\nOu la premi\u00e8re \u00e9toile.<\/p>\n
Et par de longs et zigzaguants d\u00e9tours,
\nVous revenez des vieux faubourgs
\nVers la grand\u2019place o\u00f9 s\u2019exalte la joie.
\nUn pitre y fait le boniment
\nAu pr\u00e9sident du grand serment,
\nEt dans un coin le carrousel flamboie
\nEt tourne, et tourne, en emportant
\nAu mors aux dents de ses chevaux ardents,
\nMais immobiles,
\nL\u2019habituel recueillement
\nEt le silence de la ville.<\/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":[561],"poems-book":[695],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15343","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-561","poems-book-les-villes-a-pignons","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n