Poems by Victor Hugo - HTML preview

EXPECTATION.

("Moune, écureuil.")
     {xx.}

Squirrel, mount yon oak so high,
     To its twig that next the sky
         Bends and trembles as a flower!
     Strain, O stork, thy pinion well,—
     From thy nest 'neath old church-bell,
     Mount to yon tall citadel,
         And its tallest donjon tower!
     To your mountain, eagle old,
     Mount, whose brow so white and cold,
         Kisses the last ray of even!
     And, O thou that lov'st to mark
     Morn's first sunbeam pierce the dark,
     Mount, O mount, thou joyous lark—
         Joyous lark, O mount to heaven!
     And now say, from topmost bough,
     Towering shaft, and peak of snow,
         And heaven's arch—O, can you see
     One white plume that like a star,
     Streams along the plain afar,
     And a steed that from the war
         Bears my lover back to me?

     JOHN L. O'SULLIVAN.