Fate Knows No Tears

Just as the dawn of Love was breaking

Across the weary world of grey,

Just as my life once more was waking

As roses waken late in May,

Fate, blindly cruel and havoc-making,

Stepped in and carried you away.

Memories have I none in keeping

Of times I held you near my heart,

Of dreams when we were near to weeping

That dawn should bid us rise and part;

Never, alas, I saw you sleeping

With soft closed eyes and lips apart,

Breathing my name still through your dreaming.–

Ah! had you stayed, such things had been!

But Fate, unheeding human scheming,

Serenely reckless came between–

Fate with her cold eyes hard and gleaming

Unseared by all the sorrow seen.

Ah! well-beloved, I never told you,

I did not show in speech or song,

How at the end I longed to fold you

Close in my arms; so fierce and strong

The longing grew to have and hold you,

You, and you only, all life long.

They who know nothing call me fickle,

Keen to pursue and loth to keep.

Ah, could they see these tears that trickle

From eyes erstwhile too proud to weep.

Could see me, prone, beneath the sickle,

While pain and sorrow stand and reap!

Unopened scarce, yet overblown, lie

The hopes that rose-like round me grew,

The lights are low, and more than lonely

This life I lead apart from you.

Come back, come back! I want you only,

And you who loved me never knew.

You loved me, pleaded for compassion

On all the pain I would not share;

And I in weary, halting fashion

Was loth to listen, long to care;

But now, dear God! I faint with passion

For your far eyes and distant hair.

Yes, I am faint with love, and broken

With sleepless nights and empty days;

I want your soft words fiercely spoken,

Your tender looks and wayward ways–

Want that strange smile that gave me token

Of many things that no man says.

Cold was I, weary, slow to waken

Till, startled by your ardent eyes,

I felt the soul within me shaken

And long-forgotten senses rise;

But in that moment you were taken,

And thus we lost our Paradise!

Farewell, we may not now recover

That golden “Then” misspent, passed by,

We shall not meet as loved and lover

Here, or hereafter, you and I.

My time for loving you is over,

Love has no future, but to die.

And thus we part, with no believing

In any chance of future years.

We have no idle self-deceiving,

No half-consoling hopes and fears;

We know the Gods grant no retrieving

A wasted chance. Fate knows no tears.

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Poems in English 

• Woman And The Weed poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Willie’s Ladye poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Waly, Waly poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Villion’s Ballade Of Good Counsel, To His Friends Of Evil Life poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Valentine In Form Of Ballade poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Three Portraits Of Prince Charles poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Wife Of Usher’s Well poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Twa Sisters poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Queen’s Marie poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Odyssey poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Moon’s Minion poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Loving Ballad Of Lord Bateman poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Laird Of Waristoun poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Heir Of Lynne poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Fairy’s Gift poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Elphin Nourrice poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Dowie Dens Of Yarrow poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Douglas Tragedy poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Burial Of Moliere poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Broomfield Hill poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang

More external links (open in a new tab):

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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.

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Adela Florence Nicolson

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 andis buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.

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