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Revision as of 14:20, 15 September 2021

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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Dieu me dounerait-il sa plus belle etoile,
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J’aime miens l’enfant qu’il m’a donne,|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Enfants, voici des bcenfs qui passent;
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Cachez vos rouges tabliers,|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Lorsquo I'entant parait le cerole qui ratlmire.|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Oh! j’ai vu de si pres les foules miserablos.
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I have looked so closely on the miserable crowd;
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Its license and its insolence, its clamors coarse and loud;
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Wretches by civil war to greatness who increased;
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On the judge who should himself he tried; the impure priest.
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Serving and smirching God, preaching Yes and proving No—
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Seen so closely all the vileness man’s beauty hides below;
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In good the ill, in truth the lie; in glory’s stately march
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Proud empty Nothings strutting on ’neath the triumphal arch:
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I've seen so much that bends, that bites, that runs away,
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That feeble, now, and old, and worn, it is my choice to stray
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Hereafter to the end alone in forest wilds untrod.
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There may I bleed and meditate. And even should a god
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Once more to bribe me hack to cities offer me
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Glory, and youth, and love, and strength, and victory,
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It might prove well that I my woodland cave had kept,
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For I am not too sure that I might not accept!|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem='Tween us and Heaven as veils and bars,
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A peace profound all lit with stars ;
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’Tis this God thinks of as He keeps
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The poet where the baby sleeps!
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“Lætitia Rerum”
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L’aragne sur l’eaii fait des ronds;
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O.' ciel bleu ! l'ombre est sous la treille
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Le jour tremble, et les mousherons
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Yiennent vous parler a l'oreille.
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Wanders about the hungry bee,
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The yellow wasp bestirs him more,
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For all the perfume-drinkers, see,
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The spring sets out her lavish store.
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Behold the bees to banquet pass,
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Prinked out with proper etiquette.
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The rosebud is a brimming glass;
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The lily is a table set.
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From flowers as yet that scarce unclose
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The gnat quaffs gold in ecstacy,
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And in his tavern of a rose
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Dead-drunken lies the butterfly !|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Sans doute il est tard, car voici
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Qne vient tout près de moi chanter mon rouge-garget
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Yacarme de inarteaux lointains dans une forge.
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L’eau clapote. On entend haleter un steamer.
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One mouche entre. Souffle immense de la men|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=Towards noon
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Jean has an amiable habit of sleeping.
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Her mother a moment may breathe and repose
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For there’s labor in serving if only a rose ;
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We watch her, we smile, and our cares vanish all,
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She’s a star with the further advantage she’s small.
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Tho shadow in love with her seems to adore her.
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And the breeze holds its breath as it light passes o’er her.
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But, soft! the lids open, out goes one plump arm,
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One foot, then the other, and then with such charm
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That the angels must bend from the blue heavens to hear
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She babbles and coos. Then the mother draws near.
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Her accents are music ; she bends o’er the nest.
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Seeks what term of endearment will fit it the best.
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Her joy, her bud-angel, her “ nightmare !” The mother
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Says, “ Oho! you’re awake again, then, Little Bother ! ”|signature=}}
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...
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{{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|From “The Moon”, orig: “[https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/La_Lune_(Hugo) La Lune]”, part II “[http://poesie.webnet.fr/lesgrandsclassiques/poemes/victor_hugo/choses_du_soir.html Choses du soir]”|center}}
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=The fog is cold and the copse is gray ;
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The steers as they move to the water, low ;
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The moon from the black clouds taking way,
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A light affright seems to come and go.
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Je ne sais plus quand, je ne sais plus où,
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Maître Yvon soufflait dans son biniou.
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The traveller trudges, the earth is brown.
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A shadow chases, a shade leads on.
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Light where the sun climbs, white where it goes down.
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Moonlight yonder, and hither the dawn.
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The sitting sorceress mutters her spell,
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To the roof the spider his web binds up;
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Glow sprites flash and shake in the fires of the dell
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Like pistils of gold in a tulip’s cup.
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Up over the sea come the night-fogs white;
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Shipwreck is dogging a shivering mast.
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Says the wind, “ To-morrow ” the wave, “'To-night ;”
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Despairing voices flutter past.
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The coach sets out from Avranche for Fougère ;
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Its whip in the dusk makes a lightning-flash.
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This is the moment when floating in air,
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The gloom gathers vast round the murmurs that clash.
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In each forest-vista a tire glows.
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A graveyard is seen on the mountain-height;
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Where does God find all the gloom that He throws
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O’er the broken heart and the falling night ?
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Silver flakes tremble along the sands ;
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The chalky cliff with gold is lined ;
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The shepherd the flight of monstrous bands
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Of devils follows athwart, the wind.
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Each chimney dons a hodden plume ;
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With his faggot the woodman hastes to house ;
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You hear o'er the rush of the rivulet’s flume
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The shiver and moan of the wind-swayed, boughs.
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Gaunt wolves, morose, howl in hungry dreams ;
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The river races, the clouds have fled ;
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Behind the pane the lamp-light gleams
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On a little child with a flaxen head.
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Je ne sais plus quand, je ne sais plus où,
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Maître Yvon soufflait dans son biniou.
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…
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Peut-être, là-haut, il est, dans l’Ignoré,
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Un dieu supérieur aux dieux que nous rêvâmes,
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Capable de donner des astres à des âmes.|signature=}}
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{{Style P-Poem|poem=“ [https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Le_Poème_du_Jardin_des_Plantes Le poeme du Jardin des Plantes] ”
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Le comte de Buffon fut bonhomme, il créa
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Ce jardin imité d’Évandre et de Rhéa
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Et plein d’ours plus savants que ceux de la Sorbonne,
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Afin que Jeanne y puisse aller avec sa bonne ;
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…
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Le bon goût, ce ruisseau, par Nisard, ce concierge,
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Livre au singe excessif la forêt, cette vierge,
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Et permet à Dupin de ressembler aux chiens.
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(Pauvres chiens !)<ref>{{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|The rest of original verses in French could be found in [https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Catégorie:Poèmes_de_Victor_Hugo Wikisource]}}</ref>|signature=}}
    
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{{Footnotes}}
Retrieved from "https://en.teopedia.org/lib/Special:MobileDiff/2370"

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