Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership



Best Famous Victor Hugo Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Victor Hugo poems. This is a select list of the best famous Victor Hugo poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Victor Hugo poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Victor Hugo poems.

Search for the best famous Victor Hugo poems, articles about Victor Hugo poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Victor Hugo poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

by Algernon Charles Swinburne | |

Eurydice - To Victor Hugo

 Orpheus, the night is full of tears and cries,
And hardly for the storm and ruin shed
Can even thine eyes be certain of her head
Who never passed out of thy spirit's eyes,
But stood and shone before them in such wise
As when with love her lips and hands were fed,
And with mute mouth out of the dusty dead
Strove to make answer when thou bad'st her rise.
Yet viper-stricken must her lifeblood feel The fang that stung her sleeping, the foul germ Even when she wakes of hell's most poisonous worm, Though now it writhe beneath her wounded heel.
Turn yet, she will not fade nor fly from thee; Wait, and see hell yield up Eurydice.


by Victor Hugo | |

Boaz Asleep

 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.
His beard was silver as a brook in April.
He bound sheaves without the strain of hate or envy.
He saw gleaners pass, and said, Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.
The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling, clothed itself in candor.
He wore clean robes.
His heaped granaries spilled over always toward the poor, no less than public fountains.
Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen.
He was generous, and moderate.
Women held him worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome, but to him in his old age came greatness.
An old man, nearing his first source, may find the timelessness beyond times of trouble.
And though fire burned in young men's eyes, to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.


by Victor Hugo | |

More Strong Than Time

 Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet, 
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid, 
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it, 
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade; 

Since it was given to me to hear on happy while, 
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries, 
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile, 
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes; 

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam, 
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always, 
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream, 
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days; 

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours, 
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old, 
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers, 
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.
Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet; My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill, My soul more love than you can make my soul forget


More great poems below...

by Victor Hugo | |

The Genesis of the Butterfly

 The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers 
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers 
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings 
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings, 
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide, 
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays, Of the fond hearts within a billet bound, Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound, The messages of love that mortals write Filled with intoxication of delight, Written in April and before the May time Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime, We dream that all white butterflies above, Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love, And leave their lady mistress in despair, To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair, Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies


by Victor Hugo | |

The Grave and The Rose

 The Grave said to the Rose, 
"What of the dews of dawn, 
Love's flower, what end is theirs?" 
"And what of spirits flown, 
The souls whereon doth close 
The tomb's mouth unawares?" 
The Rose said to the Grave.
The Rose said, "In the shade From the dawn's tears is made A perfume faint and strange, Amber and honey sweet.
" "And all the spirits fleet Do suffer a sky-change, More strangely than the dew, To God's own angels new," The Grave said to the Rose.


by Victor Hugo | |

The Oceans Song

 We walked amongst the ruins famed in story 
Of Rozel-Tower, 
And saw the boundless waters stretch in glory 
And heave in power.
O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder, Whilst waves marked time.
"Appear, O Truth!" thou sang'st with tone of thunder, "And shine sublime! "The world's enslaved and hunted down by beagles, To despots sold.
Souls of deep thinkers, soar like mighty eagles! The Right uphold.
"Be born! arise! o'er the earth and wild waves bounding, Peoples and suns! Let darkness vanish; tocsins be resounding, And flash, ye guns! "And you who love no pomps of fog or glamour, Who fear no shocks, Brave foam and lightning, hurricane and clamour,-- Exiles: the rocks!"


by Victor Hugo | |

The Poor Children

 Take heed of this small child of earth; 
He is great; he hath in him God most high.
Children before their fleshly birth Are lights alive in the blue sky.
In our light bitter world of wrong They come; God gives us them awhile.
His speech is in their stammering tongue, And his forgiveness in their smile.
Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.
Alas! their right to joy is plain.
If they are hungry Paradise Weeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.
The want that saps their sinless flower Speaks judgment on sin's ministers.
Man holds an angel in his power.
Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs, When God seeks out these tender things Whom in the shadow where we sleep He sends us clothed about with wings, And finds them ragged babes that weep!


by Thomas Hardy | |

From Victor Hugo

 Child, were I king, I'd yield my royal rule, 
 My chariot, sceptre, vassal-service due, 
My crown, my porphyry-basined waters cool, 
My fleets, whereto the sea is but a pool, 
 For a glance from you! 

Love, were I God, the earth and its heaving airs, 
 Angels, the demons abject under me, 
Vast chaos with its teeming womby lairs, 
Time, space, all would I give--aye, upper spheres, 
 For a kiss from thee!


by Sandra Cisneros | |

Cloud

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper.
-Thich Nhat Hanh
Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and murmuring like a mouth.
You were the shadows of a cloud cross- ing over a field of tulips.
You were the tears of a man who cried into a plaid handkerchief.
You were the sky without a hat.
Your heart puffed and flowered like sheets drying on a line.
And when you were a tree, you listened to the trees and the tree things trees told you.
You were the wind in the wheels of a red bicycle.
You were the spidery Mariatattooed on the hairless arm of a boy in dowtown Houston.
You were the rain rolling off the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree.
A lock of straw-colored hair wedged between the mottled pages of a Victor Hugo novel.
A crescent of soap.
A spider the color of a fingernail.
The black nets beneath the sea of olive trees.
A skein of blue wool.
A tea saucer wrapped in newspaper.
An empty cracker tin.
A bowl of blueber- ries in heavy cream.
White wine in a green-stemmed glass.
And when you opened your wings to wind, across the punched- tin sky above a prison courtyard, those condemned to death and those condemned to life watched how smooth and sweet a white cloud glides.