Death and Famine on every side
And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death,
And the brave red blood set free,
The glazing eye and the failing breath,–
But what are these things to me?
Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright
And your blood is red like wine,
And I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And hold your lips with mine!
I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
Fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
But for the moment your star is bright,
I revel beneath its shine,
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
And you need not deem me over cold,
That I do not stop to think
For all the pleasure this Life may hold
Is on the Precipice brink.
Thought could but lessen my soul’s delight,
And to-day she may not pine.
For I shall lie in your arms to-night
And close your lips with mine!
I trust what sorrow the Fates may send
I may carry quietly through,
And pray for grace when I reach the end,
To die as a man should do.
To-day, at least, must be clear and bright,
Without a sorrowful sign,
Because I sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
So on I work, in the blazing sun,
To bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
And the night falls round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
Had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
A few random poems:
- Nature And the Book poem – Alfred Austin
- Sonnet L by William Shakespeare
- Face To Face by Rabindranath Tagore
- Степан Щипачев – Свет звезды
- His Confidence by William Butler Yeats
- Happiness by Wilfred Owen
- Workin’ It Out by Shel Silverstein
- Robert Burns: Verses On The Destruction Of The Woods Near Drumlanrig:
- Владимир Маяковский – Пятый интернационал
- Михаил Кузмин – Зачем в тот вечер роковой
- Юрий Верховский – Вариации на тему Пушкина
- Resolved To Be Loved
- Николай Языков – А. Н. Вульфу (Мой брат по вольности и хмелю)
- Владимир Степанов – Мишка (Буква М)
- A Melody By Scarlatti
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
- Sweethearts by Mary Gilmore
- Stars and Jasmine by Maurice Riordan
- St Patrick’s Day by Michael McGovern
- Singapore by Mary Gilmore
- Rile Me Up! by Michael D Wentworth
- Remembrance by Maya Angelou
- Raindrops by Michael Mulcahy
- Purgatory by Maxine Kumin
- Progress by Michael McGovern
- Pejar Creek by Mary Gilmore
- Passing Time by Maya Angelou
- O Singer in Brown by Mary Gilmore
- No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest by Mary Gilmore
- New York’s Bad Dream by Matthew Abuelo
- New York’s Last Gleanings by Matthew Abuelo
- Nationality by Mary Gilmore
- Momma Welfare Roll by Maya Angelou
- Modest Sounds by Michael Brandon Odom
- mine danse macabre doppelganger by matthew scott harris
- Million Man March Poem by Maya Angelou
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

Violet Nicolson ( 1865 – 1904); otherwise known as Adela Florence Nicolson (née Cory), was an English poetess who wrote under the pseudonym of Laurence Hope, however she became known as Violet Nicolson. In the early 1900s, she became a best-selling author. She committed suicide and is buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.