O France, although you sleep <br />We call you, we the forbidden! <br />The shadows have ears, <br />And the depths have cries. <br /> <br />Bitter, glory-less despotism <br />Over a discouraged people <br />Closes a black thick grate <br />Of error and prejudice; <br /> <br />It locks up the loyal swarm <br />Of firm thinkers, of heroes, <br />But the Idea with the flap of a wing <br />Will part the heavy bars, <br /> <br />And, as in ninety-one, <br />Will retake sovereign flight, <br />For breaking apart a cage of bronze <br />Is easy for bronze bird. <br /> <br />Darkness covers the world, <br />But the Idea illuminates and shines; <br />With its white brightness it floods <br />The dark blues of the night. <br /> <br />It is the solitary lantern, <br />The providential ray; <br />It is the lamp of the earth <br />That cannot help but light the sky. <br /> <br />It calms the suffering soul, <br />Guides life, puts the dead to rest; <br />It shows the mean the gulf, <br />It shows the just the way. <br /> <br />In seeing in the dark mist <br />The Idea, love of sad eyes, <br />Rise calm, serene and pure, <br />On the mysterious horizon, <br /> <br />Fanaticism and hatred <br />Roar before each threshhold, <br />As obscene hounds howl <br />When appears the moon in mourning. <br /> <br />Oh! Think of the mighty Idea, <br />Nations! its superhuman brow <br />Has upon it, from now on, the light <br />That will show the way to tomorrow!<br /><br />Victor Marie Hugo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/luna-16/
