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


“The Atlas summits were veiled in purple gloom,

But a golden moon above rose clear and free.

The cactus thicket was ruddy with scarlet bloom

Where, through the silent shadow, he came to me.”

“All my sixteen summers were but for this,

That He should pass, and, pausing, find me fair.

You Stars! bear golden witness! My lips were his;

I would not live till others have fastened there.”

“Oh take me, Death, ere ever the charm shall fade,

Ah, close these eyes, ere ever the dream grow dim.

I welcome thee with rapture, and unafraid,

Even as yesternight I welcomed Him.”

* * * * *

“Not now, Impatient one; it well may be

That ten moons hence I shall return for thee.”

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Adela Florence Nicolson
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