Poems by Victor Hugo - HTML preview

TO A SICK CHILD DURING THE SIEGE OF PARIS.

("Si vous continuez toute pâle.")
     {November, 1870.}

If you continue thus so wan and white;
           If I, one day, behold
     You pass from out our dull air to the light,
           You, infant—I, so old:
     If I the thread of our two lives must see
           Thus blent to human view,
     I who would fain know death was near to me,
           And far away for you;
     If your small hands remain such fragile things;
           If, in your cradle stirred,
     You have the mien of waiting there for wings,
           Like to some new-fledged bird;
     Not rooted to our earth you seem to be.
           If still, beneath the skies,
     You turn, O Jeanne, on our mystery
           Soft, discontented eyes!
     If I behold you, gay and strong no more;
           If you mope sadly thus;
     If you behind you have not shut the door,
           Through which you came to us;
     If you no more like some fair dame I see
           Laugh, walk, be well and gay;
     If like a little soul you seem to me
           That fain would fly away—
     I'll deem that to this world, where oft are blent
           The pall and swaddling-band,
     You came but to depart—an angel sent
           To bear me from the land.

     LUCY H. HOOPER.