A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000)
by Alec Derwent Hope
Year after year the princess lies asleep
Until the hundred years foretold are done,
Easily drawing her enchanted breath.
Caught on the monstrous thorns around the keep,
Bones of the youths who sought her, one by one
Rot loose and rattle to the ground beneath.
But when the Destined Lover at last shall come,
For whom alone Fortune reserves the prize
The thorns give way; he mounts the cobwebbed stair
Unerring he finds the tower, the door, the room,
The bed where, waking at his kiss she lies
Smiling in the loose fragrance of her hair.
That night, embracing on the bed of state,
He ravishes her century of sleep
And she repays the debt of that long dream;
Future and Past compose their vast debate;
His seed now sown, her harvest ripe to reap
Enact a variation on the theme.
For in her womb another princess waits,
A sleeping cell, a globule of bright dew.
Jostling their way up that mysterious stair,
A horde of lovers bursts between the gates,
All doomed but one, the destined suitor, who
By luck first reaches her and takes her there.
A parable of all we are or do!
The life of Nature is a formal dance
In which each step is ruled by what has been
And yet the pattern emerges always new
The marriage of linked cause and random chance
Gives birth perpetually to the unforeseen.
One parable for the body and the mind:
With science and heredity to thank
The heart is quite predictable as a pump,
But, let love change its beat, the choice is blind.
‘Now’ is a cross-roads where all maps prove blank,
And no one knows which way the cat will jump.
So here stand I, by birth a cross between
Determined pattern and incredible chance,
Each with an equal share in what I am.
Though I should read the code stored in the gene,
Yet the blind lottery of circumstance
Mocks all solutions to its cryptogram.
As in my flesh, so in my spirit stand I
When does this hundred years draw to its close?
The hedge of thorns before me gives no clue.
My predecessor’s carcass, shrunk and dry,
Stares at me through the spikes. Oh well, here goes!
I have this thing, and only this, to do.
A few random poems:
- Canzone by W H Auden
- Омар Хайям – Где вы, друзья! Где вольный ваш припев?
- Вера Полозкова – Францу Кафке
- Михаил Лермонтов – Хоть давно изменила мне радость
- Robert Burns: Tam Samson’s Elegy: When this worthy old sportman went out, last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian’s phrase, “the last of his fields,” and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph.-R.B., 1787.
- Eclogue:–The Times by William Barnes
- On Carpaccio’s Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- A Subaltern by Siegfried Sassoon
- Deeply Morbid by Stevie Smith
- Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known by William Wordsworth
- Ho, everyone that thirsteth poem – A. E. Housman
- Юлия Друнина – Русский вечер
- Алексей Жемчужников – Заметки о некоторой публицистике
- Robert Burns: Verses To Collector Mitchell :
- Let go of your worries by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
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
- Robert Burns: Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary?:
- Robert Burns: Versified Reply To An Invitation:
- Robert Burns: To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline,: Recommending a Boy.
- Robert Burns: Despondency: An Ode:
- Robert Burns: Home.:
- Robert Burns: The Lament: Occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a Friend’s Amour.
- Robert Burns: To Ruin:
- Robert Burns: To A Mountain Daisy: On turning down with the Plough, in April, 1786.
- Robert Burns: Ploughman’s Life, The:
- Robert Burns: Montgomerie’s Peggy:
- Robert Burns: Epistle To The Rev. John M’math: Inclosing A Copy Of “Holy Willie’s Prayer,” Which He Had Requested
- Robert Burns: Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear: Paraphrase of Jeremiah, 15th Chap., 10th verse
- Robert Burns: Third Epistle To J. Lapraik:
- Robert Burns: The Holy Fair:
- Robert Burns: Epistle To John Goldie, In Kilmarnock: Author Of The Gospel Recovered.
- Robert Burns: Elegy On The Death Of Robert Ruisseaux:
- Robert Burns: Rantin’, Rovin’ Robin:
- Robert Burns: Tho’ Cruel Fate Should Bid Us Part:
- Robert Burns: One Night As I Did Wander:
- Robert Burns: Second Epistle To J. Lapraik:
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
Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) was an Australian poet and essayist known for his satirical slant. He was also a critic, teacher and academic.