A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
They lay the slender body down
With all its wealth of wetted hair,
Only a daughter of the town,
But very young and slight and fair.
The eyes, whose light one cannot see,
Are sombre doubtless, like the tresses,
The mouth’s soft curvings seem to be
A roseate series of caresses.
And where the skin has all but dried
(The air is sultry in the room)
Upon her breast and either side,
It shows a soft and amber bloom.
By women here, who knew her life,
A leper husband, I am told,
Took all this loveliness to wife
When it was barely ten years old.
And when the child in shocked dismay
Fled from the hated husband’s care
He caught and tied her, so they say,
Down to his bedside by her hair.
To some low quarter of the town,
Escaped a second time, she flew;
Her beauty brought her great renown
And many lovers here she knew,
When, as the mystic Eastern night
With purple shadow filled the air,
Behind her window framed in light,
She sat with jasmin in her hair.
At last she loved a youth, who chose
To keep this wild flower for his own,
He in his garden set his rose
Where it might bloom for him alone.
Cholera came; her lover died,
Want drove her to the streets again,
And women found her there, who tried
To turn her beauty into gain.
But she who in those garden ways
Had learnt of Love, would now no more
Be bartered in the market place
For silver, as in days before.
That former life she strove to change;
She sold the silver off her arms,
While all the world grew cold and strange
To broken health and fading charms.
Till, finding lovers, but no friend,
Nor any place to rest or hide,
She grew despairing at the end,
Slipped softly down a well and died.
And yet, how short, when all is said,
This little life of love and tears!
Her age, they say, beside her bed,
To-day is only fifteen years.
A few random poems:
- Memory poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Олег Бундур – Обновки
- A Sonnet Occasioned by the Bad Weather Which Hindered the Sports at New-Market in January, 1616 by William Drummond
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- Кондратий Рылеев – Мне тошно здесь, как на чужбине
- A Farewel To America to Mrs. S. W. by Phillis Wheatley
- Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought by William Shakespeare
- Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem “The Excursion,” by William Wordsworth
- Владимир Солоухин – В лесу
- A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King in the Presence at White-Hall by Robert Herrick
- Омар Хайям – Если бог не услышит меня в вышине
- Whitsun by Sylvia Plath
- A Photograph on the Desk by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Николай Некрасов – Возвращение
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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 (X) : In the search of the physical immortality by Neelam Sinha
- Sonnet (VIII) : Some left crown , some left land and some into exile by Neelam Sinha
- Sonnet (IX) : Flesh o flesh ! The momentous , the mortal , the doomed by Neelam Sinha
- Set me FREE by Neelam Sinha
- Riposte to the Bard: Sonnet 130 remade in my lady’s image by Neil Outar
- Rapture by Neil Outar
- Praises to my motherland ! by Neelam Sinha
- O the Chimneys by Nelly Sachs
- Mirage by Neelam Sinha
- Minnesang by Neil Outar
- Mama, Come Back by Nellie Wong
- Mad Nuclear Mushrooms by Adeola Ikuomola
- Lonely Poets by Ndue Ukaj
- Know thy SELF by Neelam Sinha
- Job by Nelly Sachs
- Immigranten by Ndue Ukaj
- Illusion of Time by Ndue Ukaj
- I too want to ESCAPE by Neelam Sinha
- I know you will remember ME by Neelam Sinha
- Hummingbird by Nicole M Nugent
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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.