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:
- Never Again Would Bird’s Song Be The Same by Robert Frost
- If You Only Knew by Robert Desnos
- Михаил Ломоносов – Лишь только дневной шум замолк
- The Window Freäm’d Wi’ Stwone by William Barnes
- Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Маяковский – Уже из-за снежных заносов прекратилось… (РОСТА №774)
- Apology to Delia by William Cowper
- YOU by Muralidharan Mudaliar
- The First Part: Sonnet 3 – Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts, by William Drummond
- Magpiety by Philip Levine
- A Circular by Thomas Hardy
- Morning Poem #39 by Wanda Phipps
- Ballade Of Sleep poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
- Sheep In Fog by Sylvia Plath
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
- Юрий Верховский – Месяцу, заре, звезде, лазури
- Юрий Верховский – Как раненый олень кидается в поток
- Юрий Верховский – Есть имена, таинственны и стары
- Юрий Верховский – Ах, душечка моя, как нынче мне светло
- Жан де Лафонтен – Язычник и деревянный Идол
- Жан де Лафонтен – Врачи
- Жан де Лафонтен – Воля и Неволя
- Жан де Лафонтен – Волк, Мать и Ребенок
- Жан де Лафонтен – Волк и Лисица на суде перед Обезьяной
- Жан де Лафонтен – Волк и Конь
- Жан де Лафонтен – Война Крыс и Ласок
- Жан де Лафонтен – Виноградник и Олень
- Жан де Лафонтен – Утопленница
- Жан де Лафонтен – Третейский Судья, Брат милосердия и Пустынник
- Жан де Лафонтен – Старый Кот и Мышонок
- Жан де Лафонтен – Ссора Собак с Кошками и Кошек с Мышами
- Жан де Лафонтен – Совет Мышей
- Жан де Лафонтен – Смерть и Несчастный
- Жан де Лафонтен – Скупой, потерявший свое богатство
- Жан де Лафонтен – Шершни и Пчелы
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.