A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
There are no days for me any more, for the dawn is dark with tears,
There is no rest for me any more, for the night is thick with fears.
There are no flowers nor any fruit, for the sorrowful locusts came,
And the garden is but a memory, the vineyard only a name.
There is no light in the empty sky, no sail upon the sea,
Birds are yet on their nests perchance, but they sing no more to me.
Past–vanished–faded away–all the joys that were.
My youth died down in a swift decline when they married her to despair.
“My lord, the crowd in the Audience Hall; how long wilt thou have them wait?”
I have given my father’s younger son the guidance of the State.
“The steeds are saddled, the Captains call for the orders of the day.”
Tell them that I shall ride no more to the hunting or the fray.
“Sweet the scent of the Moghra flowers;” Brother, it may be so.
“The young, flushed spring is with us again.” Is it? I did not know.
“The Zamorin’s daughter draweth near, on slender golden feet;”
Oh, a curse upon all sweet things say I, to whom they are no more sweet!
Dost think that a man as sick as I can compass a woman’s ease?
That the sons of a man who is like to me could ever find rest or peace?
Tell them to marry them where they will, if their longing be so sore,
Such are the things that all men seek, but I shall seek no more.
All my muscles are fallen in, and the blood deserts my veins,
Every fibre and bone of me is waxen full of pains,
The iron feet of mine enemy’s curse are heavy upon my head,
Look at me and judge for thyself, thou seest I am but dead.
“Then, who is it, Prince, who has done this thing, has sown such a bitter seed,
That we hale him forth to the Market-place, bind him and let him bleed,
That the flesh may shudder and wince and writhe, reddening ‘neath the rod.”
Love is the evil-doer, alas! and how shalt thou scourge a God?
A few random poems:
- My rat
- The Maharishi And The Baby
- Myfanwy poem – John Betjeman poems
- Accidents by Russell Edson
- I’m Out O’ Door by William Barnes
- Вероника Тушнова – Я поняла, ты не хотел мне зла
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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
- Robert Burns: Lines On The Commemoration Of Rodney’s Victory:
- Robert Burns: Thanksgiving For A National Victory:
- Robert Burns: Lines Inscribed In A Lady’s Pocket Almanac:
- Robert Burns: On Commissary Goldie’s Brains:
- Robert Burns: The True Loyal Natives:
- Robert Burns: The Soldier’s Return:
- Robert Burns: Meg O’ The Mill : Another Version
- Robert Burns: Meg O’ The Mill:
- Robert Burns: Lovely Young Jessie:
- Robert Burns: Lord Gregory:
- Robert Burns: Open The Door To Me, Oh:
- Robert Burns: Wandering Willie: Revised Version
- Robert Burns: Wandering Willie: First Version
- Robert Burns: Sonnet Written On The Author’s Birthday, : On hearing a Thrush sing in his Morning Walk.
- Robert Burns: Braw Lads O’ Galla Water:
- Robert Burns: On Politics:
- Robert Burns: Poortith Cauld And Restless Love:
- Robert Burns: A Tippling Ballad: On the Duke of Brunswick’s Breaking up his Camp, and the defeat of the Austrians, by Dumourier, November 1792.
- Robert Burns: Here’s A Health To Them That’s Awa:
- Robert Burns: Duncan Gray:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
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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.