Why above others was I so blessed
And honoured? to be chosen one
To hold you, sleeping, against my breast,
As now I may hold your only son.
Twelve months ago; that wonderful night!
You gave your life to me in a kiss;
Have I done well, for that past delight,
In return, to have given you this?
Look down at his face, your face, beloved,
His eyes are azure as yours are blue.
In every line of his form is proved
How well I loved you, and only you.
I felt the secret hope at my heart
Turned suddenly to the living joy,
And knew that your life and mine had part
As golden grains in a brass alloy.
And learning thus, that your child was mine,
Thrilled by the sense of its stirring life,
I held myself as a sacred shrine
Afar from pleasure, and pain, and strife,
That all unworthy I might not be
Of that you had deigned to cause to dwell
Hidden away in the heart of me,
As white pearls hide in a dusky shell.
Do you remember, when first you laid
Your lips on mine, that enchanted night?
My eyes were timid, my lips afraid,
You seemed so slender and strangely white.
I always tremble; the moments flew
Swiftly to dawn that took you away,
But this is a small and lovely you
Content to rest in my arms all day.
Oh, since you have sought me, Lord, for this,
And given your only child to me,
My life devoted to yours and his,
Whilst I am living, will always be.
And after death, through the long To Be,
(Which, I think, must surely keep love’s laws,)
I, should you chance to have need of me,
Am ever and always, only yours.

A few random poems:
- Epitaph on “Wee Johnnie” by Robert Burns
- The Dead Woman
- Upon Julia’s Breast by Marie Starr
- You Will Forget! by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- krishna039s_advice_to_arjuna.html
- Владимир Британишский – Есть добрая, есть и дурная слава
- Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare
- Late September poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Robert Burns: Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.: Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.
- Казалось, осталось недолго
- Exodus by Michael Nikoletseas
- Can You See The Pride In The Panther? by Tupac Shakur
- Olney Hymn 50: The Christian by William Cowper
- Владимир Высоцкий – В холода, в холода
- Life a battlefield by Tanisha Avarsekar
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.