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:
- Стефан Малларме – Милостыня
- Trial by Ruth Padel
- At Shelley’s House At Lerici poem – Alfred Austin
- Pejar Creek by Mary Gilmore
- Let go of your worries by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Sonnet 113: Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind by William Shakespeare
- Adolescence II by Rita Dove
- Ghosts of a Lunatic Asylum by Stephen Vincent Benet
- A Minor Bird by Robert Frost
- Immaculacy by Satish Verma
- Deity of my dreams by Vasishta Sharma Gudi
- Владимир Высоцкий – Здесь сидел ты, Валет
- Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn by William Shakespeare
- The Language of William Dunbar
- The Rose Tree 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
- The Wind In Woone’s Feäce by William Barnes
- The Wind At The Door by William Barnes
- The Widow’s House by William Barnes
- The White Road Up Athirt The Hill by William Barnes
- The Wheel Routs by William Barnes
- The Welshnut Tree by William Barnes
- The Weepen Leady by William Barnes
- The Weather-Beaten Tree by William Barnes
- The Water-Spring In The Leäne by William Barnes
- The Water Crowvoot by William Barnes
- The Waggon A-Stooded by William Barnes
- The Vrost by William Barnes
- The Vier-Zide by William Barnes
- The Veairy Veet That I Do Meet by William Barnes
- The Vaïces That Be Gone by William Barnes
- The Two Churches by William Barnes
- The Turnstile by William Barnes
- The Turn O’ The Days by William Barnes
- The Thorns In The Geäte by William Barnes
- The Stwonen Bwoy Upon The Pillar by William Barnes
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.