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:
- Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea by William Shakespeare
- The Old Huntsman by Siegfried Sassoon
- Низами Гянджеви – Искендер-наме – Страница 15 из 15
- Two Views Of Withens by Sylvia Plath
- Иннокентий Анненский – Любовь к прошлому
- Алексей Плещеев – Весна
- Love Song poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster
- “Advance – Come Forth From Thy Tyrolean Ground” by William Wordsworth
- Song For A Summer’s Day by Sylvia Plath
- To Delia by William Cowper
- On Journeys Through The States. by Walt Whitman
- Zermatt To The Matterhorn. by Thomas Hardy
- We Are To Play The Game Of Death by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Kind Moon by Sara Teasdale
- Олег Бундур – Однажды на даче
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
- Earthy Anecdote by Wallace Stevens
- A Dish Of Peaches In Russia by Wallace Stevens
- Depression Before Spring by Wallace Stevens
- A Clear Day And No Memories by Wallace Stevens
- In The Carolinas by Wallace Stevens
- Another Weeping Woman by Wallace Stevens
- Anecdote Of Canna by Wallace Stevens
- You Felons on Trial in Courts. by Walt Whitman
- Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours. by Walt Whitman
- Years of the Modern. by Walt Whitman
- Year that Trembled. by Walt Whitman
- Year of Meteors, 1859 ’60. by Walt Whitman
- World, Take Good Notice. by Walt Whitman
- World Below the Brine, The. by Walt Whitman
- With Antecedents. by Walt Whitman
- With All Thy Gifts. by Walt Whitman
- Whoever You are, Holding Me now in Hand. by Walt Whitman
- Who Learns My Lesson Complete? by Walt Whitman
- Who is now Reading This? by Walt Whitman
- Whispers of Heavenly Death. by Walt Whitman
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.