A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Softly the feathery Palm-trees fade in the violet Distance,
Faintly the lingering light touches the edge of the sea,
Sadly the Music of Waves, drifts, faint as an Anthem’s insistence,
Heard in the aisles of a dream, over the sandhills, to me.
Now that the Lights are reversed, and the Singing changed into sighing,
Now that the wings of our fierce, fugitive passion are furled,
Take I unto myself, all alone in the light that is dying,
Much of the sorrow that lies hid at the Heart of the World.
Sad am I, sad for your loss: for failing the charm of your presence,
Even the sunshine has paled, leaving the Zenith less blue.
Even the ocean lessens the light of its green opalescence,
Since, to my sorrow I loved, loved and grew weary of, you.
Why was our passion so fleeting, why had the flush of your beauty
Only so slender a spell, only so futile a power?
Yet, even thus ever is life, save when long custom or duty
Moulds into sober fruit Love’s fragile and fugitive flower.
Fain would my soul have been faithful; never an alien pleasure
Lured me away from the light lit in your luminous eyes,
But we have altered the World as pitiful man has leisure
To criticise, balance, take counsel, assuredly lies.
All through the centuries Man has gathered his flower, and fenced it,
–Infinite strife to attain; infinite struggle to keep,–
Holding his treasure awhile, all Fate and all forces against it,
Knowing it his no more, if ever his vigilance sleep.
But we have altered the World as pitiful man has grown stronger,
So that the things we love are as easily kept as won,
Therefore the ancient fight can engage and detain us no longer,
And all too swiftly, alas, passion is over and done.
Far too speedily now we can gather the coveted treasure,
Enjoy it awhile, be satiated, begin to tire;
And what shall be done henceforth with the profitless after-leisure,
Who has the breath to kindle the ash of a faded fire?
Ah, if it only had lasted! After my ardent endeavour
Came the delirious Joy, flooding my life like a sea,
Days of delight that are burnt on the brain for ever and ever,
Days and nights when you loved, before you grew weary of me.
Softly the sunset decreases dim in the violet Distance,
Even as Love’s own fervour has faded away from me,
Leaving the weariness, the monotonous Weight of Existence,–
All the farewells in the world weep in the sound of the sea.

A few random poems:
- Юнна Мориц – О жизни, о жизни
- Alameda by Paul Blackburn
- If I Got You by Miraj Patel
- When I Was Young the Silk poem – A. R. Ammons poems | Poetry Monster
- Михаил Лермонтов – Я счастлив, тайный яд течёт в моей крови
- Sonet 58 by William Alexander
- Words by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Британишский – Унифицированный современный поэт
- The Water-Nymph poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Sonnet (X) : In the search of the physical immortality by Neelam Sinha
- Джон Донн – Лекция о тени
- Наум Коржавин – Кое-кому
- Lesbos by Sylvia Plath
- Виктор Шамонин-Версенев – Заяц-врун
- Юлия Друнина – Ты рядом
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
- Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 131: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 129: Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame by William Shakespeare
- The Eolian Harp by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 29: When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 23: As an unperfect actor on the stage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse by William Shakespeare
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.