Would I could see you, native land, <br />Where lilacs and the almond stand <br />Behind fields flowering to the strand-- <br />But no! <br /> <br />Can I--oh, father, mother, crave <br />Another final blessing save <br />To rest my head upon your grave?-- <br />But no! <br /> <br />In the one pit where ye repose, <br />Would I could tell of France's woes, <br />My brethren, who fell facing foes-- <br />But no! <br /> <br />Would I had--oh, my dove of light, <br />After whose flight came ceaseless night, <br />One plume to clasp so purely white.-- <br />But no! <br /> <br />Far from ye all--oh, dead, bewailed! <br />The fog-bell deafens me empaled <br />Upon this rock--I feel enjailed-- <br />Though free. <br /> <br />Like one who watches at the gate <br />Lest some shall 'scape the doomed strait. <br />I watch! the tyrant, howe'er late, <br />Must fall!<br /><br />Victor Marie Hugo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-exile-s-desire/
