But presently his mind becoming more confused
Becomes clouded, in the shadows he spoke without cease
Of Jesus, of Jesus, then of Jesus once more
Saying: Glory to thee, divine Tenderness!
That is all; he will die; we can no longer doubt it.
To spend his days better than ours
Calm the saint takes his sleep; we hear him repeat
His sublime: Love one another one and all.
D.
1. Le Lundi no. 3, 5[?] Dec 1887. The poem is attributed to Abel Desjardins and covers two pages. The third verse on the second page is in Proust's handwriting, unlike the first two verses. Whether it was also composed by Proust is uncertain.Created 14.12.2025