{"id":3455,"date":"2025-07-03T01:25:52","date_gmt":"2025-07-03T01:25:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=3455"},"modified":"2025-07-03T01:25:52","modified_gmt":"2025-07-03T01:25:52","slug":"to-some-birds-flown-away-by-victor-hugo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=3455","title":{"rendered":"To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>To Some Birds Flown Away by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/the-man-and-the-cannon-by-victor-hugo\">Victor Hugo<\/a> was first published in 1837. The English translation is by Mrs Newton Crossland.<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo<\/h3>\n<p><em>\u201cEnfants! Oh! revenez!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<p>     {XXII, April, 1837}<\/p>\n<p> Children, come back\u2014come back, I say\u2014<br \/>     You whom my folly chased away<br \/>     A moment since, from this my room,<br \/>     With bristling wrath and words of doom!<br \/>     What had you done, you bandits small,<br \/>     With lips as red as roses all?<br \/>     What crime?\u2014what wild and hapless deed?<br \/>       What porcelain vase by you was split<br \/>     To thousand pieces? Did you need<br \/>       For pastime, as you handled it,<br \/>     Some Gothic missal to enrich<br \/>       With your designs fantastical?<br \/>       Or did your tearing fingers fall<br \/>     On some old picture? Which, oh, which<br \/>     Your dreadful fault? Not one of these;<br \/>     Only when left yourselves to please<br \/>     This morning but a moment here<br \/>       \u2018Mid papers tinted by my mind<br \/>     You took some embryo verses near\u2014<br \/>       Half formed, but fully well designed<br \/>     To open out. Your hearts desire<br \/>     Was but to throw them on the fire,<br \/>     Then watch the tinder, for the sight<br \/>     Of shining sparks that twinkle bright<br \/>     As little boats that sail at night,<br \/>     Or like the window lights that spring<br \/>     From out the dark at evening.<\/p>\n<p>     \u2018Twas all, and you were well content.<br \/>     Fine loss was this for anger\u2019s vent\u2014<br \/>     A strophe ill made midst your play,<br \/>     Sweet sound that chased the words away<br \/>     In stormy flight. An ode quite new,<br \/>     With rhymes inflated\u2014stanzas, too,<br \/>     That panted, moving lazily,<br \/>       And heavy Alexandrine lines<br \/>     That seemed to jostle bodily,<br \/>       Like children full of play designs<br \/>     That spring at once from schoolroom\u2019s form.<br \/>     Instead of all this angry storm,<br \/>     Another might have thanked you well<br \/>     For saving prey from that grim cell,<br \/>     That hollowed den \u2018neath journals great,<br \/>       Where editors who poets flout<br \/>       With their demoniac laughter shout.<br \/>     And I have scolded you! What fate<br \/>     For charming dwarfs who never meant<br \/>       To anger Hercules! And I<br \/>     Have frightened you!\u2014My chair I sent<br \/>       Back to the wall, and then let fly<br \/>     A shower of words the envious use\u2014<br \/>     \u201cGet out,\u201d I said, with hard abuse,<br \/>     \u201cLeave me alone\u2014alone I say.\u201d<br \/>     Poor man alone! Ah, well-a-day,<br \/>     What fine result\u2014what triumph rare!<br \/>       As one turns from the coffin\u2019d dead<br \/>     So left you me:\u2014I could but stare<br \/>       Upon the door through which you fled\u2014<br \/>     I proud and grave\u2014but punished quite.<br \/>     And what care you for this my plight!\u2014<br \/>     You have recovered liberty,<br \/>     Fresh air and lovely scenery,<br \/>     The spacious park and wished-for grass;<br \/>       The running stream, where you can throw<br \/>     A blade to watch what comes to pass;<br \/>       Blue sky, and all the spring can show;<br \/>     Nature, serenely fair to see;<br \/>     The book of birds and spirits free,<br \/>     God\u2019s poem, worth much more than mine,<br \/>     Where flowers for perfect stanzas shine\u2014<br \/>     Flowers that a child may pluck in play,<br \/>     No harsh voice frightening it away.<br \/>     And I\u2019m alone\u2014all pleasure o\u2019er\u2014<br \/>       Alone with pedant called \u201cEnnui,\u201d<br \/>     For since the morning at my door<br \/>       Ennui has waited patiently.<br \/>     That docto-r-London born, you mark,<br \/>     One Sunday in December dark,<br \/>     Poor little ones\u2014he loved you not,<br \/>     And waited till the chance he got<br \/>     To enter as you passed away,<br \/>       And in the very corner where<br \/>     You played with frolic laughter gay,<br \/>       He sighs and yawns with weary air.<\/p>\n<p>     What can I do? Shall I read books,<br \/>     Or write more verse\u2014or turn fond looks<br \/>     Upon enamels blue, sea-green,<br \/>     And white\u2014on insects rare as seen<br \/>     Upon my Dresden china ware?<br \/>     Or shall I touch the globe, and care<br \/>     To make the heavens turn upon<br \/>     Its axis? No, not one\u2014not one<br \/>     Of all these things care I to do;<br \/>     All wearies me\u2014I think of you.<br \/>     In truth with you my sunshine fled,<br \/>     And gayety with your light tread\u2014<br \/>     Glad noise that set me dreaming still.<br \/>     \u2018Twas my delight to watch your will,<br \/>     And mark you point with finger-tips<br \/>       To help your spelling out a word;<br \/>     To see the pearls between your lips<br \/>       When I your joyous laughter heard;<br \/>     Your honest brows that looked so true,<br \/>       And said \u201cOh, yes!\u201d to each intent;<br \/>     Your great bright eyes, that loved to view<br \/>       With admiration innocent<br \/>     My fine old S\u00e8vres; the eager thought<br \/>     That every kind of knowledge sought;<br \/>     The elbow push with \u201cCome and see!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>     Oh, certes! spirits, sylphs, there be,<br \/>     And fays the wind blows often here;<br \/>     The gnomes that squat the ceiling near,<br \/>     In corners made by old books dim;<br \/>     The long-backed dwarfs, those goblins grim<br \/>     That seem at home \u2018mong vases rare,<br \/>     And chat to them with friendly air\u2014<br \/>     Oh, how the joyous demon throng<br \/>     Must all have laughed with laughter long<br \/>     To see you on my rough drafts fall,<br \/>     My bald hexameters, and all<br \/>     The mournful, miserable band,<br \/>     And drag them with relentless hand<br \/>     From out their box, with true delight<br \/>     To set them each and all a-light,<br \/>     And then with clapping hands to lean<br \/>     Above the stove and watch the scene,<br \/>     How to the mass deformed there came<br \/>     A soul that showed itself in flame!<\/p>\n<p>     Bright tricksy children\u2014oh, I pray<br \/>     Come back and sing and dance away,<br \/>     And chatter too\u2014sometimes you may,<br \/>     A giddy group, a big book seize\u2014<br \/>     Or sometimes, if it so you please,<br \/>     With nimble step you\u2019ll run to me<br \/>       And push the arm that holds the pen,<br \/>     Till on my finished verse will be<br \/>       A stroke that\u2019s like a steeple when<br \/>     Seen suddenly upon a plain.<br \/>     My soul longs for your breath again<br \/>     To warm it. Oh, return\u2014come here<br \/>     With laugh and babble\u2014and no fear<br \/>       When with your shadow you obscure<br \/>       The book I read, for I am sure,<br \/>     Oh, madcaps terrible and dear,<br \/>     That you were right and I was wrong.<br \/>     But who has ne\u2019er with scolding tongue<br \/>     Blamed out of season. Pardon me!<br \/>     You must forgive\u2014for sad are we.<\/p>\n<p>     The young should not be hard and cold<br \/>     And unforgiving to the old.<br \/>     Children each morn your souls ope out<br \/>       Like windows to <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/10-genuinely-terrifying-books\">the shining<\/a> day,<br \/>     Oh, miracle that comes about,<br \/>       The miracle that children gay<br \/>     Have happiness and goodness too,<br \/>     Caressed by destiny are you,<br \/>       Charming you are, if you but play.<br \/>     But we with living overwrought,<br \/>     And full of grave and sombre thought,<br \/>     Are snappish oft: dear little men,<br \/>     We have ill-tempered days, and then,<br \/>     Are quite unjust and full of care;<br \/>     It rained this morning and the air<br \/>     Was chill; but clouds that dimm\u2019d the sky<br \/>     Have passed. Things spited me, and why?<br \/>     But now my heart repents. Behold<br \/>     What \u2019twas that made me cross, and scold!<br \/>     All by-and-by you\u2019ll understand,<br \/>     When brows are mark\u2019d by Time\u2019s stern hand;<br \/>     Then you will comprehend, be sure,<br \/>     When older\u2014that\u2019s to say, less pure.<\/p>\n<p>     The fault I freely own was mine.<br \/>     But oh, for pardon now I pine!<br \/>     Enough my punishment to meet,<br \/>     You must forgive, I do entreat<br \/>     With clasped hands praying\u2014oh, come back,<br \/>     Make peace, and you shall nothing lack.<br \/>     See now my pencils\u2014paper\u2014here,<br \/>     And pointless compasses, and dear<br \/>     Old lacquer-work; and stoneware clear<br \/>     Through glass protecting; all man\u2019s toys<br \/>     So coveted by girls and boys.<br \/>     Great China monsters\u2014bodies much<br \/>     Like cucumbers\u2014you all shall touch.<br \/>     I yield up all! my picture rare<br \/>       Found beneath antique rubbish heap,<br \/>     My great and tapestried oak chair<br \/>       I will from you no longer keep.<br \/>     You shall about my table climb,<br \/>       And dance, or drag, without a cry<br \/>     From me as if it were a crime.<br \/>       Even I\u2019ll look on patiently<br \/>     If you your jagged toys all throw<br \/>     Upon my carved bench, till it show<br \/>     The wood is torn; and freely too,<br \/>     I\u2019ll leave in your own hands to view,<br \/>     My pictured Bible\u2014oft desired\u2014<br \/>     But which to touch your fear inspired\u2014<br \/>     With God in emperor\u2019s robes attired.<\/p>\n<p>     Then if to see my verses burn,<br \/>     Should seem to you a pleasant turn,<br \/>     Take them to freely tear away<br \/>     Or burn. But, oh! not so I\u2019d say,<br \/>     If this were M\u00e9ry\u2019s room to-day.<br \/>     That noble poet! Happy town,<br \/>     Marseilles the Greek, that him doth own!<br \/>     Daughter of <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/11-classic-european-books-to-read\">Homer<\/a>, fair to see,<br \/>     Of Virgil\u2019s son the mother she.<br \/>     To you I\u2019d say, Hold, children all,<br \/>     Let but your eyes on his work fall;<br \/>     These papers are the sacred nest<br \/>     In which his crooning fancies rest;<br \/>     To-morrow winged to Heaven they\u2019ll soar,<br \/>       For new-born verse imprisoned still<br \/>     In manuscript may suffer sore<br \/>       At your small hands and childish will,<br \/>     Without a thought of bad intent,<br \/>     Of cruelty quite innocent.<br \/>     You wound their feet, and bruise their wings,<br \/>     And make them suffer those ill things<br \/>     That children\u2019s play to young birds brings.<\/p>\n<p>     But mine! no matter what you do,<br \/>     My poetry is all in you;<br \/>     You are my inspiration bright<br \/>     That gives my verse its purest light.<br \/>     Children whose life is made of hope,<br \/>     Whose joy, within its mystic scope,<br \/>     Owes all to ignorance of ill,<br \/>     You have not suffered, and you still<br \/>     Know not what gloomy thoughts weigh down<br \/>     The poet-writer weary grown.<br \/>     What warmth is shed by your sweet smile!<br \/>     How much he needs to gaze awhile<br \/>     Upon your shining placid brow,<br \/>     When his own brow its ache doth know;<br \/>     With what delight he loves to hear<br \/>     Your frolic play \u2018neath tree that\u2019s near,<br \/>     Your joyous voices mixing well<br \/>     With his own song\u2019s all-mournful swell!<br \/>     Come back then, children! come to me,<br \/>     If you wish not that I should be<br \/>     As lonely now that you\u2019re afar<br \/>     As fisherman of Etr\u00e9tat,<br \/>     Who listless on his elbow leans<br \/>     Through all the weary winter scenes,<br \/>     As tired of thought\u2014as on Time flies\u2014<br \/>     And watching only rainy skies!<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Victor Hugo Books to Read<\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/49ftIs1\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3SzSFbZ\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/4bgv47k\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to Buy on Amazon<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo, check out <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/ex-oblivione-by-h-p-lovecraft\">Ex Oblivione by H. P. Lovecraft<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Ed Humpal, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo was first published in 1837. The English translation is by Mrs Newton Crossland. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo To Some Birds Flown Away by Victor Hugo \u201cEnfants! [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":3456,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3455","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3455"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3455"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3455\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3456"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3455"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3455"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3455"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}