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: Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church: Who was looking up the text during sermon.
- Владимир Британишский – Другу
- Love is Immortal poem – Amy Haritha Suseel poems | Poems and Poetry
- Jerusalem Delivered – Book 01 – part 01 by Torquato Tasso
- Rhyming Reply to a Note from Captain Riddell by Robert Burns
- Crossing the Frontier
- Epistle to James Smith by Robert Burns
- Владимир Британишский – Аркадия
- Brookland Road by Rudyard Kipling
- Ribbons & Pearls by Timothy Cole
- Olney Hymn 56: Hatred Of Sin by William Cowper
- Remorse: A Fragment by Robert Burns
- A Wandering Knight by Rixa White
- Владимир Маяковский – Последняя петербургская сказка
- CIA Dope Calypso by Allen Ginsberg
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
- Nutting by William Wordsworth
- Nuns Fret Not at Their Convent’s Narrow Room by William Wordsworth
- November 1813 by William Wordsworth
- November, 1806 by William Wordsworth
- My Heart Leaps Up by William Wordsworth
- Mutability by William Wordsworth
- Most Sweet it is by William Wordsworth
- Minstrels by William Wordsworth
- Michael Angelo In Reply To The Passage Upon His Staute Of Sleeping Night by William Wordsworth
- Michael: A Pastoral Poem by William Wordsworth
- Methought I Saw The Footsteps Of A Throne by William Wordsworth
- Memory by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour Of Scotland, 1803 VI. Glen-Almain, Or, The Narrow Glen by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 I. Suggested By A Beautiful Ruin Upon One Of The Islands Of Lo by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XIV. Fly, Some Kind Haringer, To Grasmere-Dale by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XII. Yarrow Unvisited by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XII. Sonnet Composed At —- Castle by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 X. Rob Roy’s Grave by William Wordsworth
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.