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