Poems by Victor Hugo - HTML preview

THE LOVER'S WISH.

("Si j'étais la feuille.")
     {XXII., September, 1828.}

Oh! were I the leaf that the wind of the West,
       His course through the forest uncaring;
     To sleep on the gale or the wave's placid breast
       In a pendulous cradle is bearing.

     All fresh with the morn's balmy kiss would I haste,
       As the dewdrops upon me were glancing;
     When Aurora sets out on the roseate waste,
       And round her the breezes are dancing.

     On the pinions of air I would fly, I would rush
       Thro' the glens and the valleys to quiver;
     Past the mountain ravine, past the grove's dreamy hush,
       And the murmuring fall of the river.

     By the darkening hollow and bramble-bush lane,
       To catch the sweet breath of the roses;
     Past the land would I speed, where the sand-driven plain
       'Neath the heat of the noonday reposes.

     Past the rocks that uprear their tall forms to the sky,
       Whence the storm-fiend his anger is pouring;
     Past lakes that lie dead, tho' the tempest roll nigh,
       And the turbulent whirlwind be roaring.

     On, on would I fly, till a charm stopped my way,
       A charm that would lead to the bower;
     Where the daughter of Araby sings to the day,
       At the dawn and the vesper hour.

     Then hovering down on her brow would I light,
       'Midst her golden tresses entwining;
     That gleam like the corn when the fields are bright,
       And the sunbeams upon it shining.

     A single frail gem on her beautiful head,
       I should sit in the golden glory;
     And prouder I'd be than the diadem spread
       Round the brow of kings famous in story.

     V., Eton Observer.