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:
- When You Come by Maya Angelou
- The Ships Are Made Ready In Silence by W. S. Merwin
- Maple by Robert Frost
- Depression Before Spring by Wallace Stevens
- Bond and Free by Robert Frost
- To The Right Honourable William, Earl Of Dartmouth, His Majesty’s Principal Secretary Of The State For North-America, by Phillis Wheatley
- 3 Fun Ways to Stimulate Creative Thinking
- Владимир Степанов – Рассказ оружейника
- CROSSING THE DEAF by Satish Verma
- Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Маяковский – Посмотрим сами, покажем им
- If Only by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песенка ни про что, или Что случилось в Африке
- In A Restaurant by Sara Teasdale
- Иосиф Бродский – Бюст Тиберия
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
- The Princess And The Goblins by Sylvia Plath
- The Other by Sylvia Plath
- The Other Two by Sylvia Plath
- The Night Dances by Sylvia Plath
- The Net-Menders by Sylvia Plath
- The Munich Mannequins by Sylvia Plath
- The Moon And The Yew Tree by Sylvia Plath
- The Manor Garden by Sylvia Plath
- The Lady And The Earthenware Head by Sylvia Plath
- The Jailer by Sylvia Plath
- The Hermit At Outermost House by Sylvia Plath
- The Hanging Man by Sylvia Plath
- The Great Carbuncle by Sylvia Plath
- The Goring by Sylvia Plath
- The Glutton by Sylvia Plath
- The Ghost’s Leavetaking by Sylvia Plath
- The Fearful by Sylvia Plath
- The Eye-Mote by Sylvia Plath
- The Everlasting Monday by Sylvia Plath
- The Dream by Sylvia Plath
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.