There were Roses in the hedges, and Sunshine in the sky,
Red Lilies in the sedges, where the water rippled by,
A thousand Bulbuls singing, oh, how jubilant they were,
And a thousand flowers flinging their sweetness on the air.
But you, who sat beside me, had a shadow in your eyes,
Their sadness seemed to chide me, when I gave you scant replies;
You asked “Did I remember?” and “When had I ceased to care?”
In vain you fanned the ember, for the love flame was not there.
“And so, since you are tired of me, you ask me to forget,
What is the use of caring, now that you no longer care?
When Love is dead his Memory can only bring regret,
But how can I forget you with the flowers in your hair?”
What use the scented Roses, or the azure of the sky?
They are sweet when Love reposes, but then he had to die.
What could I do in leaving you, but ask you to forget,–
I suffered, too, in grieving you; I all but loved you yet.
But half love is a treason, that no lover can forgive,
I had loved you for a season, I had no more to give.
You saw my passion faltered, for I could but let you see,
And it was not I that altered, but Fate that altered me.
And so, since I am tired of love, I ask you to forget,
What is the use you caring, now that I no longer care?
When Love is dead, his Memory can only bring regret;
Forget me, oh, forget me, and my flower-scented hair!

A few random poems:
- “My soul is sunk in all–suffusing shame” poem – Alfred Austin
- Sonnet XI. On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer poem – John Keats poems
- Not Goo Hwome To-Night by William Barnes
- Aunt’s Tantrums by William Barnes
- A Working Party by Siegfried Sassoon
- Robert Burns: My Native Land Sae Far Awa:
- Виктор Калитин – Фиалка
- Choriambics — II by Rupert Brooke
- To Somebody Out There by Vashti Trisawati Abhidana
- Timothy Thomas Fortune – Timothy Thomas Fortune
- Blessings On Children by William Gilmore Simms
- What these girl means to me by Maphoto selokela
- Mum and children in the street by Raj Arumugam
- Robert Burns: Contented Wi’ Little And Cantie Wi’ Mair:
- Beyond the Moon by Vachel Lindsay
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
- By the Spring, at Sunset by Vachel Lindsay
- Buddha by Vachel Lindsay
- Blanche Sweet by Vachel Lindsay
- Beyond the Moon by Vachel Lindsay
- At Mass by Vachel Lindsay
- An Indian Summer Day on the Prarie by Vachel Lindsay
- An Argument by Vachel Lindsay
- An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic by Vachel Lindsay
- Alone in the Wind, on the Prairie by Vachel Lindsay
- Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight by Vachel Lindsay
- Above the Battle’s Front by Vachel Lindsay
- A Sense of Humor by Vachel Lindsay
- A Rhyme About an Electrical Advertising Sign by Vachel Lindsay
- A Prayer to All the Dead among Mine Own People by Vachel Lindsay
- A Net to Snare the Moonlight by Vachel Lindsay
- A Curse for Kings by Vachel Lindsay
- Vaishnavi Prakash by Vaishnavi Prakash
- Transcended Land Of Love by Vaishnavi Prakash
- The Monastery Of Life by Vaishnavi Prakash
- The Castle By The River by Vaishnavi Prakash
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.