Hope, child! to-morrow! Hope! and then again to-morrow, And then to-morrow still! Trust in a future day. Hope! and each morn that skies new light from dawn shall borrow, As God is there to bless, let us be there to pray. Our faults, poor angel mine, are cause of our affliction, Perhaps if on our knees we rest incessant thus, When on the innocent God pours his benediction, And the repentant, last he will remember us.
Return to the Victor Hugo library , or . . . Read the next poem; Still Be a Child