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:
- Sonnet 135: Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will by William Shakespeare
- A Vision by Robert Burns
- Damon The Mower poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Владимир Корнилов – Соперник
- Those Born In Obscure Times poem – Aleksandr Blok poems | Poetry Monster
- Little Clock by T. Wignesan
- A Memory by Rupert Brooke
- Олег Бундур – Наши неприятности
- Lines poem – John Keats poems
- Юрий Левитанский – Кинематограф
- Наум Коржавин – Комиссары
- Юлия Жадовская – Всё ты уносишь, нещадное время
- Prize poem – Amanda James DIll poems | Poems and Poetry
- Алишер Навои – Эти губы точно розы
- The Peacock by William Butler Yeats
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
- Fleeting Thoughts by Mac McGovern
- Father And Son by Mac McGovern
- Eco en la madrugada by Mara Romero Torres
- Down in the valley by Marcin Malek
- Diary of a Palestinian Wound by Mahmoud Darwish
- Childhood by Margaret Walker
- As He Walks Away by Mahmoud Darwish
- An Interchanging Poetry Expression Of Love by Mac McGovern
- AN INSPIRATIONAL VILLANELLE: by Manish Thakur
- An Honest Poet’s Life Is Full Of Care by Malcolm Massiah
- Al calor de una guitarra by Mara Romero Torres
- Ahmad Al-Za’tar by Mahmoud Darwish
- A Noun Sentence by Mahmoud Darwish
- A Lover From Palestine by Mahmoud Darwish
- Your choice by Mrunmayi Mandan
- Yin and Yang by Muralidharan Mudaliar
- Worry by Mridula Makkuni
- Twiddle-de-dee by Muralidharan Mudaliar
- The Wedding Night by Mukeshkumar Raval
- The Storm by Muralidharan Mudaliar
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.