A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
At day-break, when the tide was low
He came to bathe his slender feet,
And laughing, sported to and fro,
Across my waters cool and sweet.
Obedient to his Faith’s decree
His sable hair was shorn away,
One curl was left, that floating free,
I longed to deck with silver spray.
His eyes were wide and full of light,
Young eyes, where dreams and fancies glow.
There was no star in Heaven so bright,
And I reflect the stars, and know.
He gave himself to my embrace,
Ah, Youth, confiding and unwise !
My Kisses clustered on his face
How should I render up my prize?
Yet he withdrew ; my waves were weak.
He loitered on my banks awhile,
Shook my caresses from his cheek. ‘
And left me with a careless smile.
I let him leave; my tides were low.
But, seeking succour of the Sea
At noon I felt the breakers flow
Across the bar, and join with me.
I waited in the heat; at length
Again he came to bathe alone.
Then, in the fullness of my strength.
I caught and held him for my own!
His strong young arms apart he flung,
His red lips cried, I had no care.
In eddies round his limbs I clung,
And rippled in and out his hair.
I bore him downwards to the Sea,
The white surf, met us on the sand
His beauty was made one with me
Who saw and loved it on the land.
I laid him down upon the bar,
Played with his hair, and kissed his eyes.
How cold these mortal lovers are!
He sleeps and makes me no replies.
My tides run low; he will not wake,
His hand drifts like an empty shell.
I stole him for his beauty’s sake,
Alas, Enfifa did not well!
His young lips show no stir of breath.
Ah, – I begin to understand,
And I remember: – this is Death!
The haunting terror of the land.
A few random poems:
- Новелла Матвеева – Река
- I Rose Up at the Dawn of Day by William Blake
- Melinda Mae by Shel Silverstein
- A Memory by William Allingham
- Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Гиппиус – Узел
- The Ships Are Made Ready In Silence by W. S. Merwin
- Even if I don’t hear your voice, I know by Vinko Kalinic
- The Goring by Sylvia Plath
- Оливер Голдсмит – Каждому по заслугам
- The Thin People by Sylvia Plath
- Владимир Британишский – Служба
- A Singer by William Allingham
- cats.html
- Simple Heart
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
- Spring by Ramesh Anand
- Remember the Tick by RD McManes
- re_word by RD McManes
- Rain by Reena Ribalow
- Carnal Knowledge by Rebecca Elson
- We Astronomers by Rebecca Elson
- This Morning by Raymond Carver
- Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year by Raymond Carver
- No Chance To A New Life by Rashmi Sreekumar
- Live for the moment, be in the present by Ramesh V Deshpande
- Late Fragment by Raymond Carver
- Jobless by Rashmi
- I’m not listening by Rashmi Sreekumar
- Flutter by Rashmi Sreekumar
- Fear by Raymond Carver
- Drinking While Driving by Raymond Carver
- Circulation by Raymond Carver
- Butterfly by Ramesh Anand
- Bobber by Raymond Carver
- Autumn by Ramesh Anand
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.