A summer wind blows through the open porch,
And, ‘neath the rustling eaves,
A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,
Shines through a vale of leaves.
The soft gusts bring a scent of summer flowers,
Fresh with the falling dew,
And round the doorway, glimmering white as snow,
The tender petals strew.
Clear through the silence, from a reedy pool
The curlew’s whistle thrills;
A lonely mopoke sorrowfully cries
From the far-folding hills.
O lovely night, and yet so sad and strange!
My fingers touch the key;
And down the empty church my Christmas song
Goes ringing, glad and free.
Each sweet note knocks at dreaming memory’s door,
And memory wakes in pain;
The spectral faces she had turn’d away
Come crowding in again.
The air seems full of music all around-
I know not what I hear,
The multitudinous echoes of the past,
Or these few voices near.
Ah me! the dim aisle vaguely widens out,
I see me stand therein;
A glory of grey sculpture takes the light
A winter morn brings in.
No more I smell the fragrant jessamine flowers
That flake a moonlit floor;
The rustling night-breeze and the open porch
I hear and see no more.
Great solemn windows, down a long, long nave
Their shadow’d rainbows fling;
Dark Purbeck shafts, with hoary capitals,
In carven archways spring.
And overhead the throbbing organ waves
Roll in one mighty sea,
Bearing the song the herald angels sang
Of Christ’s nativity.
Dear hands touch mine beneath the open book,
Sweet eyes look in my face,-
They smile, they melt in darkness; I am snatch’d
From my familiar place.
The summer night-wind blows upon my tears;
Its flowery scent is pain.
O cold, white day! O noble minster-when
May I come back again!
To hear the angels’ anthem shake the air,
Where never discord jars,-
The Christmas carols in the windy street,
Under the frosty stars;
The dream-like falling from the still, grey skies,
With falling flakes of snow,
Of mellow chimes from old cathedral bells,
Solemn and sweet and slow.
To hear loved footsteps beating time with mine
Along the churchyard path,-
To see that ring of faces once again
Drawn round the blazing hearth.
When may I come? O Lord, when may I go?
Nay, I must wait Thy will.
Give patience, Lord, and in Thine own best way
My hopes and prayers fulfil.
A few random poems:
- The Talisman poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Patience poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Down By The Salley Gardens by William Butler Yeats
- Константин Батюшков – Мечта
- The Metropolitan Tower by Sara Teasdale
- The Hosts
- Lets go by Vinko Kalinić
- Robert Burns: Merry Hae I Been Teethin A Heckle:
- Sunday Morning Blues poem – A. D. Winans poems | Poetry Monster
- Love Sonnet LIV poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Ingrateful Beauty Threatened by Thomas Carew
- Николай Заболоцкий – Когда вдали угаснет свет дневной
- Died of Wounds by Siegfried Sassoon
- Анатолий Жигулин – Дорога
- Hymn To Apollo poem – John Keats poems
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
- Paris In Spring by Sara Teasdale
- Over The Roofs by Sara Teasdale
- Only In Sleep by Sara Teasdale
- On The Dunes by Sara Teasdale
- On The Death Of Swinburne by Sara Teasdale
- Oh Day Of Fire And Sun by Sara Teasdale
- Night Song At Amalfi by Sara Teasdale
- Night In Arizona by Sara Teasdale
- New Year’s Dawn – Broadway by Sara Teasdale
- Madeira From The Sea by Sara Teasdale
- Love In Autumn by Sara Teasdale
- Less Than The Cloud To The Wind by Sara Teasdale
- Interlude: Songs Out Of Sorrow by Sara Teasdale
- In The Train by Sara Teasdale
- In The Metropolitan Museum by Sara Teasdale
- In The End by Sara Teasdale
- Night Song At Amalfi by Sara Teasdale
- In the Carpenter’s Shop by Sara Teasdale
- Night In Arizona by Sara Teasdale
- In Spring, Santa Barbara by Sara Teasdale
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
Ada Cambridge (1844 – 1926), also known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian author and poetess. She wrote more than 25 works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works.