Ma Muse Fuit Les Champs

Ma Muse fuit les champs abreuvés de carnage,
Et ses pieds innocents ne se poseront pas
Où la cendre des morts gémirait sous ses pas.
Elle pâlit d'entendre et le cri des batailles,
Et les assauts tonnants qui frappent les murailles,
Et le sang qui jaillit sous les pointes d'airain
Souillerait la blancheur de sa robe de lin.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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"Ma Muse Fuit Les Champs" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 14 Jul 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/2430/ma-muse-fuit-les-champs>.

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