Simone, je veux bien. Les bruits du soir
\nSont doux comme un cantique chant\u00e9 par des enfants.
\nL’\u00e9glise obscure ressemble \u00e0 un vieux manoir ;
\nLes roses ont une odeur grave d’amour et d’encens.<\/p>\n
Je veux bien, nous irons lentement et bien sages,
\nSalu\u00e9s par les gens qui reviennent des foins ;
\nJ’ouvrirai la barri\u00e8re d’avance \u00e0 ton passage,
\nEt le chien nous suivra longtemps d’un \u0153il chagrin.<\/p>\n
Pendant que tu prieras, je songerai aux hommes
\nQui ont b\u00e2ti ces murailles, le clocher, la tour,
\nLa lourde nef pareille \u00e0 une b\u00eate de somme
\nCharg\u00e9e du poids de nos p\u00e9ch\u00e9s de tous les jours ;<\/p>\n
Aux hommes qui ont taill\u00e9 les pierres du portail
\nEt qui ont mis sous le porche un grand b\u00e9nitier ;
\nAux hommes qui ont peint des rois sur le vitrail
\nEt un petit enfant qui dort chez un fermier.<\/p>\n
Je songerai aux hommes qui ont forg\u00e9 la croix,
\nLe coq, les gonds et les ferrures de la porte ;
\nA ceux qui ont sculpt\u00e9 la belle sainte en bois
\nQui est repr\u00e9sent\u00e9e les mains jointes et morte.<\/p>\n
Je songerai \u00e0 ceux qui ont fondu le bronze
\nDes cloches o\u00f9 l’on jetait un petit agneau d’or,
\nA ceux qui ont creus\u00e9, en l’an mil deux cent onze,
\nLe caveau o\u00f9 repose saint Roch, comme un tr\u00e9sor ;<\/p>\n
A ceux qui ont tiss\u00e9 la tunique de lin
\nPendue sous un rideau \u00e0 gauche de l’autel ;
\nA ceux qui ont chant\u00e9 au livre du lutrin ;
\nA ceux qui ont dor\u00e9 les fermoirs du missel.<\/p>\n
Je songerai aux mains qui ont touch\u00e9 l’hostie,
\nAux mains qui ont b\u00e9ni et qui ont baptis\u00e9 ;
\nJe songerai aux bagues, aux cierges, aux agonies ;
\nJe songerai aux yeux des femmes qui ont pleur\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Je songerai aussi aux morts du cimeti\u00e8re,
\nA ceux qui ne sont plus que de l’herbe et des fleurs,
\nA ceux dont les noms se lisent encore sur les pierres,
\nA la croix qui les garde jusqu’\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re heure.<\/p>\n
Quand nous reviendrons, Simone, il sera nuit close ;
\nNous aurons l’air de fant\u00f4mes sous les sapins,
\nNous penserons \u00e0 Dieu, \u00e0 nous, \u00e0 bien des choses,
\nAu chien qui nous attend, aux roses du jardin.<\/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":[604],"poems-book":[880],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[763],"class_list":["post-16659","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-604","poems-book-simone","poete-remy-de-gourmont"],"yoast_head":"\n