I<\/p>\n
J\u2019aime \u00e0 changer de cieux, de climat, de lumi\u00e8re.
\nOiseau d\u2019une saison, je fuis avec l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9,
\nEt mon vol inconstant va du rivage aust\u00e8re
\n\ufeffAu rivage enchant\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Mais qu\u2019\u00e0 jamais le vent bien loin des bords m\u2019emporte
\nO\u00f9 j\u2019ai, dans d\u2019autres temps, suivi des pas ch\u00e9ris,
\nEt qu\u2019aujourd\u2019hui d\u00e9j\u00e0 ma f\u00e9licit\u00e9 morte
\n\ufeffJonche de ses d\u00e9bris !<\/p>\n
Combien ces lieux m\u2019ont plu ! Non pas que j\u2019eusse encore
\nVu le ciel y briller sous un soleil p\u00e2li ;
\nL\u2019amour qui dans mon \u00e2me enfin venait d\u2019\u00e9clore
\n\ufeffL\u2019avait seul embelli.<\/p>\n
H\u00e9las ! avec l\u2019amour ont disparu ses charmes ;
\nEt sous ces grands sapins, au bord des lacs brumeux,
\nJe verrais se lever comme un fant\u00f4me en larmes
\n\ufeffL\u2019ombre des jours heureux.<\/p>\n
Oui ! pour moi tout est plein sur cette froide plage
\nDe la pr\u00e9sence ch\u00e8re et du regard aim\u00e9,
\nPlein de la voix connue et de la douce image
\n\ufeffDont j\u2019eus le c\u0153ur charm\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Comment pourrais-je encor, d\u00e9sol\u00e9e et pieuse,
\nPar les m\u00eames sentiers tra\u00eener ce c\u0153ur meurtri,
\nSeule o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions deux, triste o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais joyeuse,
\n\ufeffPleurante o\u00f9 j\u2019ai souri ?<\/p>\n
\ufeffPainswick, Glocestershire, ao\u00fbt 1850.<\/p>\n
II<\/p>\n
Ciel pur dont la douceur et l\u2019\u00e9clat sont les charmes,
\nMonts blanchis, golfe calme aux contours gracieux,
\nVotre splendeur m\u2019attriste, et souvent \u00e0 mes yeux
\nVotre divin sourire a fait monter les larmes.
\nDu compagnon ch\u00e9ri que m\u2019a pris le tombeau
\nLe souvenir lointain me suit sur ce rivage.
\nSouvent je me reproche, \u00f4 soleil sans nuage !
\nLorsqu\u2019il ne te voit plus, de t\u2019y trouver si beau.<\/p>\n
\ufeffNice, mai 1851.<\/p>\n
III<\/p>\n
Au pied des monts voici ma colline abrit\u00e9e,
\n\ufeffMes figuiers, ma maison,
\nLe vallon toujours vert, et la mer argent\u00e9e
\n\ufeffQui m\u2019ouvre l\u2019horizon.<\/p>\n
Pour la premi\u00e8re fois sur cette heureuse plage,
\n\ufeffLe c\u0153ur tout \u00e9perdu,
\nQuand j\u2019abordai, c\u2019\u00e9tait apr\u00e8s un grand naufrage
\n\ufeffO\u00f9 j\u2019avais tout perdu.<\/p>\n
D\u00e9j\u00e0, depuis ce temps de deuil et de d\u00e9tresse,
\n\ufeffJ\u2019ai vu bien des saisons
\nCourir sur ces coteaux que la brise caresse,
\n\ufeffEt parer leurs buissons.<\/p>\n
Si rien n\u2019a refleuri, ni le pr\u00e9sent sans charmes,
\n\ufeffNi l\u2019avenir bris\u00e9,
\nDu moins mon pauvre c\u0153ur, fatigu\u00e9 de mes larmes,
\n\ufeffMon c\u0153ur s\u2019est apais\u00e9 ;<\/p>\n
Et je puis, sous ce ciel que l\u2019oranger parfume
\n\ufeffEt qui sourit toujours,
\nR\u00eaver aux temps aim\u00e9s et voir sans amertume
\n\ufeffNa\u00eetre et mourir les jours.<\/p>\n
\ufeffNice, mai 1852.<\/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":[197],"poems-book":[715],"poemes-theme":[171,382,238],"poete":[717],"class_list":["post-15795","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-197","poems-book-premieres-poesies-ackermann","poemes-theme-amour","poemes-theme-nostalgie","poemes-theme-tristesse","poete-louise-ackermann"],"yoast_head":"\n