Song Of The Colours By Taj Mahomed

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

_Rose-colour_

Rose Pink am I, the colour gleams and glows

In many a flower; her lips, those tender doors

By which, in time of love, love’s essence flows

From him to her, are dyed in delicate Rose.

Mine is the earliest Ruby light that pours

Out of the East, when day’s white gates unclose.

On downy peach, and maiden’s downier cheek

I, in a flush of radiant bloom, alight,

Clinging, at sunset, to the shimmering peak

I veil its snow in floods of Roseate light.

_Azure_

Mine is the heavenly hue of Azure skies,

Where the white clouds lie soft as seraphs’ wings,

Mine the sweet, shadowed light in innocent eyes,

Whose lovely looks light only on lovely things.

Mine the Blue Distance, delicate and clear,

Mine the Blue Glory of the morning sea,

All that the soul so longs for, finds not here,

Fond eyes deceive themselves, and find in me.

_Scarlet_

Hail! to the Royal Red of living Blood,

Let loose by steel in spirit-freeing flood,

Forced from faint forms, by toil or torture torn

Staining the patient gates of life new born.

Colour of War and Rage, of Pomp and Show,

Banners that flash, red flags that flaunt and glow,

Colour of Carnage, Glory, also Shame,

Raiment of women women may not name.

I hide in mines, where unborn Rubies dwell,

Flicker and flare in fitful fire in Hell,

The outpressed life-blood of the grape is mine,

Hail! to the Royal Purple Red of Wine.

Strong am I, over strong, to eyes that tire,

In the hot hue of Rapine, Riot, Flame.

Death and Despair are black, War and Desire,

The two red cards in Life’s unequal game.

_Green_

I am the Life of Forests, and Wandering Streams,

Green as the feathery reeds the Florican love,

Young as a maiden, who of her marriage dreams,

Still sweetly inexperienced in ways of Love.

Colour of Youth and Hope, some waves are mine,

Some emerald reaches of the evening sky.

See, in the Spring, my sweet green Promise shine,

Never to be fulfilled, of by and by.

Never to be fulfilled; leaves bud, and ever

Something is wanting, something falls behind;

The flowered Solstice comes indeed, but never

That light and lovely summer men divined.

_Violet_

I were the colour of Things, (if hue they had)

That are hard to name.

Of curious, twisted thoughts that men call “mad”

Or oftener “shame.”

Of that delicate vice, that is hardly vice,

So reticent, rare,

Ethereal, as the scent of buds and spice,

In this Eastern air.

On palm-fringed shores I colour the Cowrie shell,

With its edges curled;

And, deep in Datura poison buds, I dwell

In a perfumed world.

My lilac tinges the edge of the evening sky

Where the sunset clings.

My purple lends an Imperial Majesty

To the robes of kings.

_Yellow_

Gold am I, and for me, ever men curse and pray,

Selling their souls and each other, by night and day.

A sordid colour, and yet, I make some things fair,

Dying sunsets, fields of corn, and a maiden’s hair.

Thus they discoursed in the daytime,–Violet, Yellow, and Blue,

Emerald, Scarlet, and Rose-colour, the pink and perfect hue.

Thus they spoke in the sunshine, when their beauty was manifest,

Till the Night came, and the Silence, and gave them an equal rest.

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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