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:
- Second Poem by Peter Orlovsky
- The Infernal Regions
- Sow by Sylvia Plath
- Song from Arcadia by Sir Philip Sidney
- As He Walks Away by Mahmoud Darwish
- After a Tempest by William Cullen Bryant
- Владимир Вишневский – Незаконная гордость
- Кондратий Рылеев – Как солнце ни блестит и как оно ни светит
- On Australian Hills
- Федор Сологуб – Тень решётки прочной
- Macer : A Character poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Ballade Of Old Plays poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Frog Autumn by Sylvia Plath
- Алексей Толстой – Стасюлевич и Маркевич
- Sonnet II. To ****** poem – John Keats 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
- Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 6: Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 67: Ah, wherefore with infection should he live by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 62: Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 61: Is it thy will thy image should keep open by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 5: Those hours, that with gentle work did frame by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 55: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 95: How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame 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.