A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
The sun was hot on the tamarind trees,
Their shadows shrivelled and shrank.
No coolness came on the off-shore breeze
That rattled the scrub on the bank.
She stretched her appealing arms to me,
Uplifting the Flagon of Love to me,
Till–great indeed was my unslaked thirst–
I paused, I stooped, and I drank!
I went with my foe to the edge of the crater,–
But no one to return, we knew,–
The lava’s heat had never been greater
Than the ire between us two.
He flung back his head and he mocked at me,
He spat unspeakable words at me,
Our eyes met, and our knives met,
I saw red, and I slew!
Such were my deeds when my youth was hot,
And force was new to my hand,
With many more that I tell thee not,
Well known in my native land.
These show thy Christ when thou prayest to Him,
He too was a man thou sayest of Him,
Therefore He, when I reach His feet,
Will remember, and understand.
A few random poems:
- Владимир Высоцкий – Старательская
- Василий Жуковский – Ахилл
- Taita Falcon above the Zambezi by Tom Mukasa
- To L. R. E. by Sara Teasdale
- Happiness by Vishü Rita Krocha
- Hot and Cold by Roald Dahl
- Robert Burns: Duncan Davison :
- The Conjugation of the Paramecium by Muriel Rukeyser
- Dead March by Weldon Kees
- A Magic Moment I Remember poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Виктор Гончаров – Больной, как будто бы гранату
- Unrequited Pathological
- To a Virtuous Young Lady poem – John Milton poems
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Бездна
- The Markets Are Down 2 Amp A Quarter
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 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 6: Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 67: Ah, wherefore with infection should he live by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 62: Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 61: Is it thy will thy image should keep open by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 5: Those hours, that with gentle work did frame by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 55: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 95: How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame 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.