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:
- Alexander E. Musset
- Федор Сологуб – Золушка
- Epistle to Dr. Blacklock by Robert Burns
- A New Year Greeting by W H Auden
- Half-Ballad of Waterval by Rudyard Kipling
- Edmundi Trotii Epitaphium poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Let go of your worries by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Mariana poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- I’m not listening by Rashmi Sreekumar
- Владимир Гиппиус стихи: читать все стихотворения, поэмы поэта Владимир Гиппиус – Поэзия на Poetry Monster
- “Veruca Salt…” by Roald Dahl
- First kiss for Arys and Nikys by Nicole Vasilcovschi
- Bredon Hill poem – A. E. Housman
- Days Are Gone by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Hand Dark
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
- Sonnet 115: Those lines that I before have writ do lie by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 114: Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 113: Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 111: O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 110: Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear’st love to any by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 108: What’s in the brain that ink may character by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 106: When in the chronicle of wasted time by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LIV by William Shakespeare
- Silvia by William Shakespeare
- Sigh No More by William Shakespeare
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.