Victor Marie Hugo
Victor Marie Hugo Poems
Comments about Victor Marie Hugo
O France, although you sleep
We call you, we the forbidden!
The shadows have ears,
And the depths have cries.
Bitter, glory-less despotism
Over a discouraged people
Closes a black thick grate
Of error and prejudice;
It locks up the loyal swarm
Of firm thinkers, of heroes,
But the Idea with the flap of a wing
Will part the heavy bars,
And, as in ninety-one,
Will retake sovereign flight,
For breaking apart a cage of bronze
Is easy for bronze bird.
Darkness covers the world,
But the Idea illuminates and shines;
With its white ...
Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight
made his pallet on the threshing floor
where all day he had worked, and now he slept
among the bushels of threshed wheat.
The old man owned wheatfields and barley,
and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded.
No filth soured the sweetness of his well.
No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.