L\u2019Oc\u00e9an resplendit sous sa vaste nu\u00e9e.
\nL\u2019onde, de son combat sans fin ext\u00e9nu\u00e9e,
\nS\u2019assoupit, et, laissant l\u2019\u00e9cueil se reposer,
\nFait de toute la rive un immense baiser.
\nOn dirait qu\u2019en tous lieux, en m\u00eame temps, la vie
\nDissout le mal, le deuil, l\u2019hiver, la nuit, l\u2019envie,
\nEt que le mort couch\u00e9 dit au vivant debout :
\nAime ! et qu\u2019une \u00e2me obscure, \u00e9panouie en tout,
\nAvance doucement sa bouche vers nos l\u00e8vres.
\nL\u2019\u00eatre, \u00e9teignant dans l\u2019ombre et l\u2019extase ses fi\u00e8vres,
\nOuvrant ses flancs, ses seins, ses yeux, ses c\u0153urs \u00e9pars,
\nDans ses pores profonds re\u00e7oit de toutes parts
\nLa p\u00e9n\u00e9tration de la s\u00e8ve sacr\u00e9e.
\nLa grande paix d\u2019en haut vient comme une mar\u00e9e.
\nLe brin d\u2019herbe palpite aux fentes du pav\u00e9 ;
\nEt l\u2019\u00e2me a chaud. On sent que le nid est couv\u00e9.
\nL\u2019infini semble plein d\u2019un frisson de feuill\u00e9e.
\nOn croit \u00eatre \u00e0 cette heure o\u00f9 la terre \u00e9veill\u00e9e
\nEntend le bruit que fait l\u2019ouverture du jour,
\nLe premier pas du vent, du travail, de l\u2019amour,
\nDe l\u2019homme, et le verrou de la porte sonore,
\nEt le hennissement du blanc cheval aurore.
\nLe moineau d\u2019un coup d\u2019aile, ainsi qu\u2019un fol esprit,
\nVient taquiner le flot monstrueux qui sourit ;
\nL\u2019air joue avec la mouche, et l\u2019\u00e9cume avec l\u2019aigle ;
\nLe grave laboureur fait ses sillons et r\u00e8gle
\nLa page o\u00f9 s\u2019\u00e9crira le po\u00ebme des bl\u00e9s ;
\nDes p\u00eacheurs sont l\u00e0-bas sous un pampre attabl\u00e9s ;
\nL\u2019horizon semble un r\u00eave \u00e9blouissant o\u00f9 nage
\nL\u2019\u00e9caille de la mer, la plume du nuage,
\nCar l\u2019Oc\u00e9an est hydre et le nuage oiseau.
\nUne lueur, rayon vague, part du berceau
\nQu\u2019une femme balance au seuil d\u2019une chaumi\u00e8re,
\nDore les champs, les fleurs, l\u2019onde et devient lumi\u00e8re
\nEn touchant un tombeau qui dort pr\u00e8s du clocher.
\nLe jour plonge au plus noir du gouffre, et va chercher
\nL\u2019ombre, et la baise au front sous l\u2019eau sombre et hagarde.
\nTout est doux, calme, heureux, apais\u00e9 ; Dieu regarde.<\/p>\n
Marine-Terrace, juillet 1855.<\/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":[224],"poems-book":[225],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[206],"class_list":["post-9291","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-224","poems-book-les-contemplations","poete-victor-hugo"],"yoast_head":"\n