Oh, Masters, you who rule the world,
Will you not wait with me awhile,
When swords are sheathed and sails are furled,
And all the fields with harvest smile?
I would not waste your time for long,
I ask you but, when you are tired,
To read how by the weak, the strong
Are weighed and worshipped and desired.
When weary of the Mart, the Loom,
The Withering-house, the Riffle-blocks,
The Barrack-square, the Engine-room,
The pick-axe, ringing on the rocks,–
When tents are pitched and work is done,
While restful twilight broods above,
By fresh-lit lamp, or dying sun,
See in my songs how women love.
We shared your lonely watch by night,
We knew you faithful at the helm,
Our thoughts went with you through the fight,
That saved a soul,–or wrecked a realm
Ah, how our hearts leapt forth to you,
In pride and joy, when you prevailed,
And when you died, serene and true:
–We wept in silence when you failed!
Oh, brain that did not gain the gold!
Oh, arm, that could not wield the sword,
Here is the love, that is not sold,
Here are the hearts to hail you Lord!
You played and lost the game? What then?
The rules are harsh and hard we know,
You, still, Oh, brothers, are the men
Whom we in secret reverence so.
Your work was waste? Maybe your share
Lay in the hour you laughed and kissed;
Who knows but what your son shall wear
The laurels that his father missed?
Ay, you who win, and you who lose,
Whether you triumph,–or despair,–
When your returning footsteps choose
The homeward track, our love is there.
For, since the world is ordered thus,
To you the fame, the stress, the sword,
We can but wait, until to us
You give yourselves, for our reward.
To Whaler’s deck and Coral beach,
To lonely Ranch and Frontier-Fort,
Beyond the narrow bounds of speech
I lay the cable of my thought.
I fain would send my thanks to you,
(Though who am I, to give you praise?)
Since what you are, and work you do,
Are lessons for our easier ways.
‘Neath alien stars your camp-fires glow,
I know you not,–your tents are far.
My hope is but in song to show,
How honoured and dear you are.
A few random poems:
- Hitler, a poem about Hitler
- “By Moscow Self-Devoted To A Blaze” by William Wordsworth
- Potions poem – Yusef Komunyakaa poems | Poetry Monster
- Владимир Маяковский – Ужасающая фамильярность
- Иван Дмитриев – Шарлатан
- Wednesday by Marvin Bell
- Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Вера Полозкова – Манипенни, твой мальчик, видно, неотвратим
- A Dream by William Allingham
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. William Michie: Schoolmaster of Cleish Parish, Fifeshire.
- Владимир Британишский – 1848 год в Зимнем дворце
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-night ungather’d let us leave poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- A Fleeting Passion by William Henry Davies
- A Sermon
- To A Feminist
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
- Halo by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Grey eyed Goddess by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Everything ends by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Damned by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Compromising my ego by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Both ways I lose by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Blue flower by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Blue eyes by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Be there for me by Tanisha Avarsekar
- An ode to you by Tanisha Avarsekar
- What time are we living in by T. Wignesan
- Villanelle: Oscar Victorius by T. Wignesan
- To the author(s) of Manimekalai by T. Wignesan
- To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s A Don Quichotte by T. Wignesan.
- To a woman, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet: A une femme by T. Wignesan.
- To a person, they say, frigid, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: A celle que l’on fit froide by T. Wignesan
- The Virgin Maid of Orleans, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet: La Pucelle by T. Wignesan.
- The Evening Soup, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: La Soupe du soir by T. Wignesan
- Prison Souvenirs, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: Prière by T. Wignesan.
- Prayer, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: Prière by T. Wignesan.
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.