A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Syed Amir is dead, and his numerous foes
Are hushed in a breathless awe of amazed relief.
The hearts of his friends are cold as the Tirah snows,
And I am blind and deaf in the Grip of my Grief. —
My Soul has borrowed a portion of Pain from Hell”
Oh, Syed Amir, my brother and Friend, Farewell!
His women weep, but a woman’s tears flow lightly.
A bauble or two, or a child, can soon console.
But I, who am stranger to tears, lie sleepless, nightly,
Feeling the Fangs of-Grief in my desolate soul.
I maddened myself with Churus, it could not cure me-
Ransacked the Bazar, to beg at the hands of lust
An hour’s respite, but how was sin to allure me,
Who know the beauty of Syed Amir is dust?
A little while I wander in Tribulation,
In a Feud or two, or a few light loves take part,
But Death will come, and this is my Consolation,
Men live not long with a stricken and wounded heart’
What further challenge from Fate can I hope or fear,
Who mourn the ruined glory of Syed Amir?
All gifts were Syed Amir’s; an Arrestive Beauty
That caught men’s breath when he passed, Serene and Royal,
A clear and delicate Mind, where Honour and Duty,
Sentried the gate, that nothing might pass disloyal,
And these are taken from Khorassan for ever,
Their light is quenched in the land where he used to dwell,
But I, who loved him, cease from loving him never;
Oh, Syed Amir, my brother and Friend, Farewell!
A few random poems:
- Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 – More oft than once death whispered by William Drummond
- Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Owl poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Владимир Высоцкий – Памятник
- The Death Of A Fly by Russell Edson
- Civil War East Coast United States North America 1860 64
- Шекспир – У бедной музы красок больше нет – Сонет 103
- Sonnet (XI) : I know me and I do believe in the causation by Neelam Sinha
- Владимир Маяковский – Вегетарианцы
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Улетевшим мечтам
- Who of you ever
- Robert Burns: Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr: “I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”-R. B.
- An Edwardian Sunday, Broomhill, Sheffield poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry
- Нина Пикулева – Читайте, дети
- Наум Коржавин – Друзьям
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 48: How careful was I, when I took my way by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 47: Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 46: Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 45: The other two, slight air and purging fire by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 3: Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 37: As a decrepit father takes delight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 36: Let me confess that we two must be twain by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 74: But be contented when that fell arrest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite 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.