[ VICTOR HUGO IN 1877]
"Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?"
Above the spring‑tide sundawn of the year,
A sunlike star, not born of day or night,
Filled the fair heaven of spring with heavenlier light,
Made of all ages orbed in one sole sphere
Whose light was as a Titan's smile or tear;
Then rose a ray more flowerlike, starry white,
Like a child's eye grown lovelier with delight,
Sweet as a child's heart‑lightening laugh to hear;
And last a fire from heaven, a fiery rain
As of God's wrath on the unclean cities, fell
And lit the shuddering shades of half‑seen hell
That shrank before it and were cloven in twain;
A beacon fired by lightning, whence all time
Sees red the bare black ruins of a crime.
[ CHILD'S SONG]
What is gold worth, say,
Worth for work or play,
Worth to keep or pay,
Hide or throw away,
Hope about or fear?
What is love worth, pray?
Worth a tear?
Golden on the mould
Lie the dead leaves rolled
Of the wet woods old,
Yellow leaves and cold,
Woods without a dove;
Gold is worth but gold;
Love's worth love.
[ TRIADS]
I
I
The word of the sun to the sky,
The word of the wind to the sea,
The word of the moon to the night,
What may it be?II
The sense to the flower of the fly,
The sense of the bird to the tree,
The sense to the cloud of the light,
Who can tell me?III
The song of the fields to the kye,
The song of the lime to the bee,
The song of the depth to the height,
Who knows all three?II
I
The message of April to May
That May sends on into June
And June gives out to July
For birthday boon;II
The delight of the dawn in the day,
The delight of the day in the noon,
The delight of a song in a sigh
That breaks the tune;III
The secret of passing away,
The cost of the change of the moon,
None knows it with ear or with eye,
But all will soon.III
I
The live wave's love for the shore,
The shore's for the wave as it dies,
The love of the thunder‑fire
That sears the skies,II
We shall know not though life wax hoar,
Till all life, spent into sighs,
Burn out as consumed with desire
Of death's strange eyes;III
Till the secret be secret no more
In the light of one hour as it flies,
Be the hour as of suns that expire
Or suns that rise.