Un soir, tu t’envolas comme l’oiseau de mer
Dont le coup d’aile altier nargue le gouffre amer :
Et moi, debout sur la colline,
Murmurant à la brise un chant d’Hiawatha,
Longtemps je regardai le flot qui t’emporta,
O doux chantre d’Evangeline !
Comme on voit l’astre d’or, plongeant an sein des eaux,
Laisser derrière lui de lumineux réseaux...
The winds have talked with him confidingly;
The trees have whispered to him; and the night
Hath held him gently as a mother might,
And taught him all sad tones of melody;
The mountains have bowed to him; and the sea,
In clamorous waves, and murmurs exquisite,
Hath told him all her sorrow and delight,—
Her legends fair,—her darkest mystery...
