Love, let me thank you for this!
Now we have drifted apart,
Wandered away from the sea,–
For the fresh touch of your kiss,
For the young warmth of your heart,
For your youth given to me.
Thanks: for the curls of your hair,
Softer than silk to the hand,
For the clear gaze of your eyes.
For yourself: delicate, fair,
Seen as you lay on the sand,
Under the violet skies.
Thanks: for the words that you said,–
Secretly, tenderly sweet,
All through the tropical day,
Till, when the sunset was red,
I, who lay still at your feet,
Felt my life ebbing away,
Weary and worn with desire,
Only yourself could console.
Love let me thank you for this!
For that fierce fervour and fire
Burnt through my lips to my soul
From the white heat of your kiss!
You were the essence of Spring,
Wayward and bright as a flame:
Though we have drifted apart,
Still how the syllables sing
Mixed in your musical name,
Deep in the well of my heart!
Once in the lingering light,
Thrown from the west on the Sea,
Laid you your garments aside,
Slender and goldenly bright,
Glimmered your beauty, set free,
Bright as a pearl in the tide.
Once, ere the thrill of the dawn
Silvered the edge of the sea,
I, who lay watching you rest,–
Pale in the chill of the morn
Found you still dreaming of me
Stilled by love’s fancies possessed.
Fallen on sorrowful days,
Love, let me thank you for this,
You were so happy with me!
Wrapped in Youth’s roseate haze,
Wanting no more than my kiss
By the blue edge of the sea!
Ah, for those nights on the sand
Under the palms by the sea,
For the strange dream of those days
Spent in the passionate land,
For your youth given to me,
I am your debtor always!
A few random poems:
- Auntie’s Skirts by Robert Louis Stevenson
- He Remembers Forgotten Beauty by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Корнилов – Прежнее слово
- Song—A Fiddler in the North by Robert Burns
- Lover’s Gifts XXXIX: There Is a Looker-On by Rabindranath Tagore
- gum tree loved by the sky by Raj Arumugam
- I stood musing in a black world by Stephen Crane
- Acceptance by Robert Frost
- In The Chapel Of Rest by Steve Sant
- In Those Years
- The Chinese Nightingale by Vachel Lindsay
- Morning Poem #59 by Wanda Phipps
- Clouds by Philip Levine
- Our Father’s Works by William Barnes
- the_solitary_oak_on_mount_kremlin_bicetre.html
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
- A Terre by Wilfred Owen
- Arms And The Boy by Wilfred Owen
- Asleep by Wilfred Owen
- Exposure by Wilfred Owen
- Futility by Wilfred Owen
- Le Christianisme by Wilfred Owen
- An Imperial Elegy by Wilfred Owen
- But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars by Wilfred Owen
- I Saw His Round Mouth’s Crimson by Wilfred Owen
- I know The Music (unfinished) by Wilfred Owen
- Hospital Barge At Cerisy by Wilfred Owen
- Has Your Soul Sipped? by Wilfred Owen
- Happiness by Wilfred Owen
- Greater Love by Wilfred Owen
- From My Diary, July 1914 by Wilfred Owen
- At A Calvary Near The Ancre by Wilfred Owen
- Apologia Pro Poemate Meo by Wilfred Owen
- Antaeus: [A Fragment] by Wilfred Owen
- A New Heaven (To-On Active Service) by Wilfred Owen
- 1914 by Wilfred Owen
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.