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Victor Hugo - Apostrophe to Nature
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O Sun! bright face aye undefiled;
O flowers i` the valley blooming wild;
Caverns, dim haunt of Solitude;
Perfume whereby one`s step`s beguiled
Deep, deep into the sombre wood; 

O Sacred mounts that heavenward climb,
White as a temple-front, sublime;
Old oaks that centuries` might inherit
(Somewhat whereof I feel, what time
`Neath you I stand, endues my spirit); 

O virgin forest, crystal spring,
Lake where no storm for long can fling
Darkness, clear heaven-reflecting face,—
Pure soul of Nature unslumbering,
What think you of this bandit base?
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