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:
- Projector by Shreekumar Varma
- Николай Заболоцкий – Читайте, деревья, стихи Гезиода
- Senex poem – John Betjeman poems
- Tiger Drinking at Forest Pool by Ruth Padel
- Robert Burns: Ballads on Mr. Heron’s Election, 1795: Second-Election Day
- Day That I Have Loved by Rupert Brooke
- Route Marchin’ by Rudyard Kipling
- General William Booth Enters into Heaven by Vachel Lindsay
- Carrion Comfort poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Song of the Open Road. by Walt Whitman
- Linoz Isidoz poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Sonnet 48: How careful was I, when I took my way by William Shakespeare
- Her Reply by Sir Walter Raleigh
- The End of the Argument by Martina Reisz Newberry
- 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.
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
- Михаил Кузмин – В легкой лени
- Михаил Кузмин – В Канопе жизнь привольная
- Михаил Кузмин – В густом лесу мы дождь пережидали
- Михаил Кузмин – В гроте Венерином мы горим
- Михаил Кузмин – Уж не слышен конский топот
- Михаил Кузмин – Увы, любви своей не скрою
- Михаил Кузмин – Утро (Звезды побледнели)
- Михаил Кузмин – Утраченного чародейства
- Михаил Кузмин – Утешение
- Михаил Кузмин – Туманный день пройдет уныло
- Михаил Кузмин – Трое (Нас было трое)
- Михаил Кузмин – Три раза я его видел лицом к лицу
- Константин Ваншенкин – Городские костры
- Константин Ваншенкин – Ехал я в штабном автомобиле
- Константин Батюшков – На смерть И.П. Пнина
- Константин Батюшков – На поэмы Петру Великому
- Константин Батюшков – На книгу под названием «Смесь»
- Константин Батюшков – Мщение
- Константин Батюшков – Мои пенаты
- Константин Батюшков – Мечта
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.