Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsApostrophe To Nature
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Apostrophe To Nature Post by :StillHill Category :Poems Author :Victor Hugo Date :January 2011 Read :3551

Click below to download : Apostrophe To Nature (Format : PDF)

Apostrophe To Nature

("O Soleil!")

(Bk. II. iv., Anniversary of the Coup d'Etat, 1852.)

O Sun! thou countenance divine!
Wild flowers of the glen,
Caves swoll'n with shadow, where sunshine
Has pierced not, far from men;
Ye sacred hills and antique rocks,
Ye oaks that worsted time,
Ye limpid lakes which snow-slide shocks
Hurl up in storms sublime;
And sky above, unruflfed blue,
Chaste rills that alway ran
From stainless source a course still true,
What think ye of this man?

(The end)
Victor Hugo's poem: Apostrophe To Nature

If you like this book please share to your friends :

Napoleon 'the Little.' Napoleon "the Little."

Napoleon 'the Little.'
_("Ah! tu finiras bien par hurler!")_(Bk. III. ii., Jersey, August, 1852.)How well I knew this stealthy wolf would howl, When in the eagle talons ta'en in air!Aglow, I snatched thee from thy prey--thou fowl-- I held thee, abject conqueror, just whereAll see the stigma of a fitting name As deeply red as deeply black thy shame!And though thy matchless impudence may frame Some mask of seeming courage--spite thy sneer,And thou assurest sloth and skunk: "It does not smart!" Thou feel'st it burning, in and in,--and fearNone will forget it till shall fall the deadly dart!(The end)Victor Hugo's poem: Napoleon "The Little."

Poor Little Children Poor Little Children

Poor Little Children
("La femelle! elle est morte.")(Bk. I. xiii., Jersey, February, 1853.)Mother birdie stiff and cold, Puss has hushed the other's singing;Winds go whistling o'er the wold,-- Empty nest in sport a-flinging. Poor little birdies!Faithless shepherd strayed afar, Playful dog the gadflies catching;Wolves bound boldly o'er the bar, Not a friend the fold is watching-- Poor little lambkins!Father into prison fell, Mother begging through the parish;Baby's cot they, too, will sell,-- Who will now feed, clothe and cherish? Poor little children!(The end)Victor Hugo's poem: Poor Little Children