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APOSTROPHE TO NATURE

 ("O Soleil!") 
 
 {Bk. II. iv., Anniversary of the Coup d'État, 1852.} 


 O Sun! thou countenance divine! 
 Wild flowers of the glen, 
 Caves swoll'n with shadow, where sunshine 
 Has pierced not, far from men; 
 Ye sacred hills and antique rocks, 
 Ye oaks that worsted time, 
 Ye limpid lakes which snow-slide shocks 
 Hurl up in storms sublime; 
 And sky above, unruflfed blue, 
 Chaste rills that alway ran 
 From stainless source a course still true, 
 What think ye of this man? 


 





Poem by Victor Hugo
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