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:
- Sonnet 15: When I consider every thing that grows by William Shakespeare
- A Circular by Thomas Hardy
- Алексей Ржевский – Рок все теперь свершил, надежды больше нет
- Until You’ve Found Pain by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Why I Do Not Miss You! by Praveen Parasar
- Наталья Хрущева – Дождик и художник
- Кондратий Рылеев – Из письма к Булгарину
- Bereavement by William Lisle Bowles
- Lucid Dreams by Talha Jafri
- Ольга Берггольц – Так еще ни разу не забыла
- Vorticism Is A Choka In Its Modular Home
- Николай Карамзин – Илья Муромец
- Accidents by Russell Edson
- In this World by Wendell Berry
- Ode On The Spring by Thomas Gray
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
- Life of Ms Anonymous by Raj Arumugam
- life begins tomorrow by Raj Arumugam
- Li Po, the moon and me by Raj Arumugam
- Li Po drowns by Raj Arumugam
- Let us pull, pull the boat by Raj Arumugam
- let us go with no care by Raj Arumugam
- let the calm of the evening by Raj Arumugam
- let’s love the lawn by Raj Arumugam
- let’s go mummy by Raj Arumugam
- laugh to cry by Raj Arumugam
- last words to the moon by Raj Arumugam
- Kangaroo talks to the Sun by Raj Arumugam
- Kadambari by Raj Arumugam
- it flows by Raj Arumugam
- in praise of the moon by Raj Arumugam
- I waited by Raj Arumugam
- I see you moon by Raj Arumugam
- I just love you by Raj Arumugam
- I bring hope and love by Raj Arumugam
- I am Yun Du-seo by Raj Arumugam
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.