Come, go and practise-get your work-
Do something, Nelly, pray.
I hate to see you moon about
In this uncertain way!
Why do you look so vacant, child?
I fear you must be ill.
Surely you are not thinking of
That Captain Cameron still?
Ah, yes-I fear’d so! You may blush;
I blush for you, my dear;
And it is scarce a week ago
Since Gerald brought him here-
The day he fell in the hunting-field,
And his pretty horse was lamed.
O child-and with your bringing up!
You ought to be ashamed.
Last night I saw you watching him,
And you danced with him thrice;
You turn’d quite red when he spoke to you-
Such manners are not nice.
You, Nelly Gray, should not be seen
(I don’t wish to be harsh)
Running wild, like the servant-girls,
For a red coat and moustache.
Not that he isn’t a gentleman
From spur to shako-brim-
I know good blood when I see it-yes,
I will say that for him.
He does not swagger, nor lisp, nor flirt-
Has none of those vulgar ways;
And he does not talk like a stable-boy,
As the fashion is nowadays.
In fact, I admire him very much-
My dear, you need not fret-
I do; he’s very different from
The rest of Gerald’s set.
He’s very handsome, certainly-
I don’t mind saying so.
He reminds me a bit of your uncle, when
I met him long ago.
He had a silky, long moustache
Of just that golden shade;
And broad Greek brows, with a tint of bronze,
That Indian suns had made.
He was a soldier, too, you know-
As big and strong and tall:
He’d just come home when I saw him first
At Lady Talbot’s ball.
I remember when we were introduced;
By stealth I look’d him o’er-
Such haughty, indolent, gentle eyes,
I never saw before!
I felt so strange when he look’d at me;
I cannot tell you why-
But I seem’d to feel he was mine, to keep
And love, till I should die.
‘Twas very odd-in a moment, too,
Before I knew his name!
But, Nelly-O how the world was changed
And brighten’d, when he came!
I was so restless all that night;-
I did not want to see,
I felt where he moved about the room
While he was away from me.
I was jealous-I could not help it,
Although I struggled hard-
Of the other girls, whose favour’d names
Were written on his card;
They were so rich, and I was poor;
They were so grandly dress’d,
And I so dowdy; and yet, and yet,
I thought he liked me best.
The last long hour he danced with them,
And oh I miss’d him so!
And then I heard our carriage call’d,
And I knew that I must go.
A big lump rose up in my throat
That I could hardly bear;
But, passing through the vestibule,
I saw him standing there.
I knew not where he came from,
But I felt no surprise
When he look’d down from his stately height
With his grave and quiet eyes,
And held his hand for a mute good-night
That said all words could say;-
Ah, love! he made me happy then
For ever and for aye.
Well, well,-but this is nonsense;
How I am running on!-
His golden hair grew thin and grey,
And now he’s dead and gone.
There, go and dress for dinner, child;
It’s getting late, you see;
And-perhaps I’ll ask young Cameron
If he’ll come in to tea.

A few random poems:
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий, не смотри Антанте в рот… (РОСТА №173)
- Владимир Корнилов – Прежнее слово
- On the Death of a Young Gentleman by Phillis Wheatley
- Олег Бундур – Если вы придёте в лес
- Iva’s Pantoum by Marilyn Hacker
- Buried Love by Sara Teasdale
- Patience, Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Two Lacquer Prints poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Silent Lover i by Sir Walter Raleigh
- A Tempest in a Teacup poem – A. Van Jordan poems | Poetry Monster
- Henry Clay’s Mouth by Thomas Lux
- Олег Бундур – Обновки
- Владимир Маяковский – Чтоб из недели “Заботы о достоянии” толку выйти, вот так, товарищи, агитацию ведите (Главполитпросвет №374)
- Nube by Manolo Arriola
- Walls at Drogheda by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
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
- Yarrow Revisited by William Wordsworth
- Written With A Slate Pencil On A Stone, On The Side Of The Mountain Of Black Comb by William Wordsworth
- Written Upon A Blank Leaf In “The Complete Angler.” by William Wordsworth
- Written In Very Early Youth by William Wordsworth
- Written in March by William Wordsworth
- Written in London. September, 1802 by William Wordsworth
- Written In Germany On One Of The Coldest Days Of The Century by William Wordsworth
- Written In A Blank Leaf Of Macpherson’s Ossian by William Wordsworth
- With Ships the Sea was Sprinkled Far and Nigh by William Wordsworth
- With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb’st the Sky by William Wordsworth
- Who Fancied What A Pretty Sight by William Wordsworth
- Where Lies The Land To Which Yon Ship Must Go? by William Wordsworth
- When To The Attractions Of The Busy World by William Wordsworth
- “When I Have Borne In Memory” by William Wordsworth
- Weak Is The Will Of Man, His Judgement Blind by William Wordsworth
- Water-Fowl Observed Frequently Over The Lakes Of Rydal And Grasmere by William Wordsworth
- Waldenses by William Wordsworth
- View From The Top Of Black Comb by William Wordsworth
- Vernal Ode by William Wordsworth
- Vaudracour And Julia by William Wordsworth
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.