Jesuitism

Poem by Paul Verlaine Collection Poems SaturnianThemes ReligionPeriod 19th century

The sorrow that kills me is ironic, and joins
Sarcasm to torment, and does not torture
Openly, but stings with a false smile
And turns my martyrdom into an amusing spectacle,
And, over the coffin where my half-rotted dream lies,
Bellows a De profundis to the tune of the Tradéri.
It is a Tartuffe who, while placing rose
Pompons on the altars of morose Madonnas,
While making choirboys sing
Those lukewarm hymns in which the heart bathes,
While starching those loving wimples
That serpentine about the sacred heart of the Blessed,
While saying his rosary in a low voice,
While passing his hand over his little collar,
While speaking with compunction of the soul,
None the less plots my ruin, – the infamous one!

Paul Verlaine

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