.Le froid envahit sa pauvre âme,
Quand sa tombe se referme sur lui,
La sculpture aux regards infâmes,
Ferme les yeux, saluant minuit.
Aujourd'hui est mort le paradis,
Dans ce cimetière triste et si brumeux,
Sous le pâle visage de Marie,
En écoutant ce chant miséricordie.
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