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:
- Огюст Барбье – Ни кротостью, ни негой ясной
- Иван Мятлев – Падучая звезда
- Levitation
- Duino Elegies: The Fourth Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Endymion: Book IV poem – John Keats poems
- Give Me Back My Rags #11 by Vasko Popa
- IV: Some Verses: To The Author by William Alexander
- A Tribute to Mr Murphy and the Blue Ribbon Army by William Topaz McGonagall
- Николай Заболоцкий – Предостережение
- A New Song by Thomas Chatterton
- Robert Burns: Halloween: The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.-R.B.
- Indications, The. by Walt Whitman
- Exeat by Stevie Smith
- Ольга Седакова – Ветер прощанья
- Lady Freedom Among Us by Rita Dove
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
- София Парнок – Ты помнишь коридорчик узенький
- София Парнок – Триолеты
- София Парнок – Тихо плачу и пою
- София Парнок – Сегодня с неба день поспешней
- София Парнок – Рондель
- София Парнок – Он ходит с женщиной в светлом
- София Парнок – Об одной лошаденке чалой
- София Парнок – Кипящий звук неторопливых арб
- София Парнок – И голос окликнул тебя среди ночи
- София Парнок – Газэлы
- София Парнок – Екатерине Гельцер
- София Парнок – Белой ночью
- Шекспир – Ты утоляешь мой голодный взор – Сонет 75
- Шекспир – Запечатленный в слове лик твой милый – Сонет 59
- Шекспир – Сонет 50
- Шекспир – Я так тебя люблю – Сонет 36
- Шекспир – Я не хочу хвалить любовь мою – Сонет 21
- Шекспир – Я лью потоки горьких слез – Сонет 44
- Шекспир – Я дорого ценю любовь твою – Сонет 87
- Шекспир – Весну не перельешь в хрусталь – Сонет 6
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.