Low on her little stool she sits
To make a nursing lap,
And cares for nothing but the form
Her little arms enwrap.
With hairless skull that gapes apart,
A broken plaster ball,
One chipped glass eye that squints askew,
And ne’er a nose at all-
No raddle left on grimy cheek,
No mouth that one can see-
It scarce discloses, at a glance,
What it was meant to be.
But something in the simple scheme
As it extends below
(It is the “tidy” from my chair
That she is rumpling so)-
A certain folding of the stuff
That winds the thing about
(But still permits the sawdust gore
To trickle down and out)-
The way it curves around her waist,
On little knees outspread-
Implies a body frail and dear,
Whence one infers a head.
She rocks the scarecrow to and fro,
With croonings soft and deep,
A lullaby designed to hush
The bunch of rags to sleep.
I ask what rubbish has she there.
“My dolly,” she replies,
But tone and smile and gesture say,
“My angel from the skies.”
Ineffable the look of love
Cast on the hideous blur
That somehow means a precious face,
Most beautiful, to her.
The deftness and the tenderness
Of her caressing hands . . . . . .
How can she possibly divine
For what the creature stands?
Herself a nurseling, that has seen
The summers and the snows
Of scarce five years of baby life.
And yet she knows-she knows.
Just as a puppy of the pack
Knows unheard huntsman’s call,
And knows it is a running hound
Before it learns to crawl.
Just as she knew, when hardly born,
The breast unseen before,
And knew-how well!-before they touched,
What milk and mouth were for.
So, by some mystic extra-sense
Denied to eyes and ears,
Her spirit communes with its own
Beyond the veil of years.
She hears unechoing footsteps run
On floors she never trod,
Sees lineaments invisible
As is the face of God-
Forms she can recognise and greet,
Though wholly hid from me.
Alas! a treasure that is not,
And that may never be.
The majesty of motherhood
Sits on her baby brow;
Before her little three-legged throne
My grizzled head must bow.
That dingy bundle in her arms
Symbols immortal things-
A heritage, by right divine,
Beyond the claims of kings.

A few random poems:
- To One False In Love by Sappho
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий, читай постановление СТО от 15 июня 1921 года (Главполитпросвет №222)
- Genesis by Vachel Lindsay
- do you believe in always by Steve Troyanovich
- Аля Кудряшева – Если ты, к примеру, кролик с шелковистыми ушами
- Николай Языков – Д. Н. Свербееву (Во имя Руси, милый брат)
- Hemlock Furrows
- An Evening Song. by Sidney Lanier
- Surface Rights
- Atavism by William Stafford
- Big Grab by Tony Hoagland
- The Door Of Humility poem – Alfred Austin
- Владислав Крапивин – На Диком Западе
- The Road To Ruin by Siegfried Sassoon
- Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- I’ll go and be a Sodger by Robert Burns
- Halloween by Robert Burns
- Green Grow The Rashes by Robert Burns
- Fragment on Sensibility by Robert Burns
- Fragment of Song—The Night was Still by Robert Burns
- Fragment of Song—“My Jean!” by Robert Burns
- Fragment—Her Flwoing Locks by Robert Burns
- For a’ that and a’ that by Robert Burns
- Fickle Fortune: A Fragment by Robert Burns
- Fareweel To A’Our Scottish Fame by Robert Burns
- Extempore Reply to an Invitation by Robert Burns
- Extempore on some commemorations of Thomson by Robert Burns
- Extempore in the Court of Session by Robert Burns
- Extemporaneous Effusion on being appointed to an Excise Division by Robert Burns
- Esteem for Chloris by Robert Burns
- Epitaph on Wm. Graham, Esq., of Mossknowe by Robert Burns
- Epitaph on William Muir by Robert Burns
- Epitaph on William Hood, Senior by Robert Burns
- Epitaph on “Wee Johnnie” by Robert Burns
- Epitaph on the same by Robert Burns
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Ada Cambridge (1844 – 1926), also known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian author and poetess. She wrote more than 25 works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works.