C\u2019est toi, d\u00e9natur\u00e9e ! oui, te voil\u00e0, c\u2019est toi
\nQui fis taire ton c\u0153ur pour \u00e9couter ta foi,
\nQui, pour gagner ton ciel de larve et de chouette,
\nFoulas ton \u00e2me aux pieds, m\u00e8re sourde-muette,
\nEt qui, lorsque ton fils se couchait en travers
\nDe ta porte, pleurant et les deux bras ouverts,
\nMarchas sur ton enfant pour entrer dans le clo\u00eetre.<\/p>\n
Quand l\u2019amour d\u00e9croissait, tu crus sentir Dieu cro\u00eetre ;
\nAh ! folle ! et te voil\u00e0, face d\u2019aust\u00e9rit\u00e9 !
\nVa, la saintet\u00e9 froide est fausse saintet\u00e9.
\nCroire qu\u2019on pla\u00eet au Dieu de lumi\u00e8re et de gloire
\nParce que d\u2019\u00e2me blanche on se fait \u00e2me noire,
\nParce qu\u2019on a d\u2019abord souffl\u00e9 sur son flambeau,
\nParce qu\u2019on vient \u00e0 lui, n\u2019\u00e9tant plus qu\u2019un tombeau
\nO\u00f9 ceux qui vous aimaient d\u2019avance ont d\u00fb descendre,
\nEt qu\u2019on en est le marbre et qu\u2019ils en sont la cendre !
\n\u00d4 morne vision ! mauvais songe que font
\nCeux qui d\u00e9sertent Dieu dans le couvent profond !
\nDieu, c\u2019est la raison ; Dieu, c\u2019est l\u2019amour ; Dieu, c\u2019est l\u2019\u00eatre ;
\nC\u2019est le devoir de vivre apr\u00e8s le droit de na\u00eetre ;
\nC\u2019est l\u2019immense clart\u00e9 sur l\u2019immense combat.
\nIl a voulu que l\u2019homme aim\u00e2t, conqu\u00eet, tomb\u00e2t,
\nEt ne f\u00fbt pas fant\u00f4me et deuil. Le froc de bure
\nNe donne point \u00e0 l\u2019homme une bonne courbure ;
\nDevenir ombre, c\u2019est obscurcir le saint lieu ;
\nEn s\u2019approchant du spectre, on s\u2019\u00e9loigne de Dieu.<\/p>\n
Pas de clo\u00eetre ; la vie. Un voile couvre un r\u00eave.
\nLe m\u00e9rite n\u2019est pas, quand vers Dieu l\u2019on s\u2019\u00e9l\u00e8ve,
\nDe rejeter, ainsi qu\u2019un v\u00eatement quitt\u00e9,
\nSes parents, sa patrie et son humanit\u00e9 ;
\nDe s\u2019enfuir de son c\u0153ur ainsi que d\u2019une fange ;
\nDe dire : \u2015 Arrachez-moi, Christ, pour que je sois ange,
\nMon p\u00e8re, ce lambeau, ma m\u00e8re, ce haillon ! \u2015
\nDe mettre \u00e0 la nature effar\u00e9e un b\u00e2illon ;
\nDe crier : \u2015 Mes enfants o\u00f9 tout mon sang se m\u00eale,
\nMon fils dans son berceau, ma fille \u00e0 la mamelle,
\nTout cela, c\u2019est la nuit, car Dieu seul est le jour. \u2015
\nDe raturer en soi la famille et l\u2019amour
\nComme des contre-sens qui vous cachent le texte ;
\nEt de perdre la forme humaine, sous pr\u00e9texte
\nQu\u2019on monte et qu\u2019on s\u2019en va dans le firmament bleu.
\nFaisons, tout en fixant notre regard sur Dieu,
\nTous nos devoirs de fils ou de fr\u00e8re ou de p\u00e8re.
\nSoyons l\u2019\u00eatre penchant, m\u00eame quand il esp\u00e8re,
\nPar l\u2019esprit vers le bien, par la chair vers le mal ;
\nSans quitter le r\u00e9el, conqu\u00e9rons l\u2019id\u00e9al ;
\nRestons homme, en montant vers le s\u00e9pulcre aust\u00e8re.
\nIl faut aller au ciel en marchant sur la terre.<\/p>\n
9 mars 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":[459],"poems-book":[452],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[206],"class_list":["post-9832","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-459","poems-book-les-quatre-vents-de-lesprit","poete-victor-hugo"],"yoast_head":"\n