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:
- Robert Burns: Clarinda, Mistress Of My Soul:
- Ballade Of A Toyokuni Colour-Print by William Ernest Henley
- Шекспир – Пример тебе подобной красоты – Сонет 84
- Holding On by Satish Verma
- The Last Man by Thomas Campbell
- Translations Dante Inferno Canto Xxvi
- The Lament of the Border Cattle Thief by Rudyard Kipling
- The Secret of the Machines by Rudyard Kipling
- Perseus by Sylvia Plath
- Николай Гумилев – Людям будущего
- Стефан Малларме – Звенящий зимний день
- Knowing God Part 1 – Finding God, Knowing Him, and Doing His Works
- There Pass the Careless People poem – A. E. Housman
- Владимир Маяковский – Для чего оттягивают паны мириться?.. (РОСТА №264)
- How a Little Girl Danced by Vachel Lindsay
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
- Arrival by William Carlos Williams
- April Is The Saddest Month by William Carlos Williams
- Après le Bain by William Carlos Williams
- Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams
- A Sort Of A Song by William Carlos Williams
- A Goodnight by William Carlos Williams
- A Celebration by William Carlos Williams
- Women And Roses by Robert Browning
- Venus, on a fur by Witty Fay
- Ultima Thule by William Ellery Leonard
- To the Victor by William Ellery Leonard
- The Image Of Delight by William Ellery Leonard
- The First Part: Sonnet 5 – How that vast heaven intitled First is roll’d, by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 4 – Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains, by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 3 – Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts, by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 2 – I know that all beneath the moon decays by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 14 – Nor Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber, by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 13 – O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks’ pure skies by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 12 – Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest, by William Drummond
- The First Part: Sonnet 11 – Lamp of heaven’s crystal hall that brings the hours, by William Drummond
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.