A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
The youthful swimmers come up on the beach,
Naked and fresh from the kiss of the sea,
I hear the sound of their light-hearted speech
As it is with them, it was once with me !
Oh, Death, grant me pity : just one day more,
And let me go down again to the shore.
I could have died in the rush of the air.
Mid crashing water and petulant spray.
The surf in my teeth, the wind in my hair,
Rejoicing, exultant, even as they.
But to meet Death here, . . . in this walled-in cage,
I am dumb with terror and blind with rage.
Have pity! Reprieve me! just one more ride.
White sand beneath us, white planets above,
One last long sail with the ebb of the tide.
One lilac evening of delicate love.
One lingering look at those eyes of his.
To remember through the Eternities.
A few random poems:
- Олег Сердобольский – Облачко
- In A Railroad Station by Sara Teasdale
- Shaun White – The Power Behind the Snowboard Throne
- At Night poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Towards Break Of Day by William Butler Yeats
- Still, though the One I Sing. by Walt Whitman
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 by William Wordsworth
- Море огней украшает причалы, вокзалы
- Set me FREE by Neelam Sinha
- Алексей Николаевич Толстой – Талисман
- Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul by William Shakespeare
- Федор Сологуб – Своеволием рока
- No Rival Like The Past
- xai_kou_from_book_seeds_of_faith.html
- UNDECIPHERABLE by Satish Verma
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 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 131: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 129: Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame by William Shakespeare
- The Eolian Harp by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 29: When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 23: As an unperfect actor on the stage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse 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.