A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
He loved the Plant with a keen delight,
A passionate fervour, strange to see,
Tended it ardently, day and night,
Yet never a flower lit up the tree.
The leaves were succulent, thick, and green,
And, sessile, out of the snakelike stem
Rose spine-like fingers, alert and keen,
To catch at aught that molested them.
But though they nurtured it day and night,
With love and labour, the child and he
Were never granted the longed-for sight
Of a flower crowning the twisted tree.
Until one evening a wayworn Priest
Stopped for the night in the Temple shade
And shared the fare of their simple feast
Under the vines and the jasmin laid.
He, later, wandering round the flowers
Paused awhile by the blossomless tree.
The man said, “May it be fault of ours,
That never its buds my eyes may see?
“Aslip it came from the further East
Many a sunlit summer ago.”
“It grows in our Jungles,” said the Priest,
“Men see it rarely; but this I know,
“The Jungle people worship it; say
They bury a child around its roots–
Bury it living:–the only way
To crimson glory of flowers and fruits.”
He spoke in whispers; his furtive glance
Probing the depths of the garden shade.
The man came closer, with eyes askance,
The child beside them shivered, afraid.
A cold wind drifted about the three,
Jarring the spines with a hungry sound,
The spines that grew on the snakelike tree
And guarded its roots beneath the ground.
. . . . . .
After the fall of the summer rain
The plant was glorious, redly gay,
Blood-red with blossom. Never again
Men saw the child in the Temple play.
A few random poems:
- The First Part: Sonnet 5 – How that vast heaven intitled First is roll’d, by William Drummond
- Robert Burns: The Banks O’ Doon: First Version
- Agatha poem – Alfred Austin
- A Gift poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Closet by Russell Edson
- His Pilgrimage by Sir Walter Raleigh
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- A Gravestone by William Allingham
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- nominalism_is_a_liquid_kuhi.html
- Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief by William Shakespeare
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- “Take not the Gods to task, for they are wise” poem – Alfred Austin
- The Snowman on the Moor by Sylvia Plath
- Que Sera Sera poem – A. Van Jordan 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
- Sweethearts by Mary Gilmore
- Stars and Jasmine by Maurice Riordan
- St Patrick’s Day by Michael McGovern
- Singapore by Mary Gilmore
- Rile Me Up! by Michael D Wentworth
- Remembrance by Maya Angelou
- Raindrops by Michael Mulcahy
- Purgatory by Maxine Kumin
- Progress by Michael McGovern
- Pejar Creek by Mary Gilmore
- Passing Time by Maya Angelou
- O Singer in Brown by Mary Gilmore
- No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest by Mary Gilmore
- New York’s Bad Dream by Matthew Abuelo
- New York’s Last Gleanings by Matthew Abuelo
- Nationality by Mary Gilmore
- Momma Welfare Roll by Maya Angelou
- Modest Sounds by Michael Brandon Odom
- mine danse macabre doppelganger by matthew scott harris
- Million Man March Poem by Maya Angelou
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.