The Stars await, serene and white,
The unarisen moon;
Oh, come and stay with me to-night,
Beside the salt Lagoon!
My hut is small, but as you lie,
You see the lighted shore,
And hear the rippling water sigh
Beneath the pile-raised floor.
No gift have I of jewels or flowers,
My room is poor and bare:
But all the silver sea is ours,
And all the scented air
Blown from the mainland, where there grows
Th’ “Intriguer of the Night,”
The flower that you have named Tube rose,
Sweet scented, slim, and white.
The flower that, when the air is still
And no land breezes blow,
From its pale petals can distil
A phosphorescent glow.
I see your ship at anchor ride;
Her “captive lightning” shine.
Before she takes to-morrow’s tide,
Let this one night be mine!
Though in the language of your land
My words are poor and few,
Oh, read my eyes, and understand,
I give my youth to you!
A few random poems:
- Юрий Галансков – Рванулось пламя из ствола
- Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan by William Shakespeare
- VII: Some Verses: On The Death of John Murray by William Alexander
- As I Watch’d the Ploughman Ploughing. by Walt Whitman
- The Rape of the Lock: Canto 4 poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Far Within Us #7 by Vasko Popa
- Михаил Лермонтов – Зови надежду сновиденьем
- Song—Behold, my love, how green the groves by Robert Burns
- The Red Earth of Kupungarri by Nicole M Nugent
- Robert Burns: Halloween: The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.-R.B.
- Don’t Hang Up The Phone by Miraj Patel
- Song by William Somervile
- Валерий Брюсов – Из Александрийской антологии. К Сапфо
- The Road To Ruin by Siegfried Sassoon
- A Letter To Doctor Ingelo, then With My Lord Whitlock, Amba poem – Andrew Marvell poems
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
- A Snow-White Lily poem – Alfred Austin
- A Sleepless Night poem – Alfred Austin
- A Shakespeare Memorial poem – Alfred Austin
- A Royal Home-Coming poem – Alfred Austin
- A Reply To A Pessimist poem – Alfred Austin
- A Rare Guest poem – Alfred Austin
- A Question poem – Alfred Austin
- A Question Answered poem – Alfred Austin
- A Portrait poem – Alfred Austin
- A Point Of Honour poem – Alfred Austin
- A Poet’s Eightieth Birthday poem – Alfred Austin
- A November Note poem – Alfred Austin
- A Night In June poem – Alfred Austin
- A Meeting poem – Alfred Austin
- A March Minstrel poem – Alfred Austin
- A Letter From Italy poem – Alfred Austin
- A Last Request poem – Alfred Austin
- A Fragment poem – Alfred Austin
- A Florilegium poem – Alfred Austin
- A Farmhouse Dirge poem – Alfred Austin
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.