A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
No others sing as you have sung
Oh, Well Beloved of me!
So glad you are, so lithe and young,
As joyous as the sea,
That dances in the golden rain
The falling sunbeams fling, –
Ah, stoop and kiss me once again
Then take your lute and sing.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
Take up your lute and sing !
The wind comes blowing, light and free :
In all the summer isles
No laughing thing it found to see
As brilliant as your smiles.
You are the very heart of Youth,
The very Soul of Song,
That lovely dream, made living truth.
For which the poets long.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
The very Soul of Song !
Ah, dear and dark-eyed Lute player
This joy is almost pain,
To reach, when evening cools the air.
Your level roof again.
To see the palms, erect and slim,
Against a golden sky,
And hear, as twilight closes dim.
The Mouddin’s mournful cry.
Across your songs, my Lute player.
The Faithful’s evening cry.
Each slender finger lightly slips,
To its appointed strings.
Ah, the sweet scarlet, parted lips
Of One Beloved, who sings !
Ah, the soft radiance of eyes
By love and music lit !
What need of Heaven beyond the skies
Since here we enter it ?
You make my Heaven, my Lute player.
And hold the keys of it !
And when the music waxes strong
I hear the sound of War,
The drums are throbbing in the song.
The clamour and the roar.
The Desert’s self is in the strain.
The agony of slaves,
The winds that sigh, as if in pain.
About forgotten graves.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
Those lonely Desert graves !
The sightless sockets, whence the eyes,
Were wrenched or burnt away,
The mangled form that e’er it dies,
Becomes the jackals’ prey.
The forced caress, the purchased smile,
Ere youth be yet awake, —
Ah, break your melody awhile
Or else my heart will break !
I sometimes think, my Lute player,
You wish my heart to break !
The sunset fires desert the West,
The stars invade the sky.
Lover of mine, ’tis time to rest
And let the music die.
Though Melody awake the morn.
Yet Love should end the day.
I kiss your hand the strings have worn
And take your lute away.
I kiss your hand, my Lute player,
And take the Lute away.
At twilight on this roof of ours,
So lonely and so high.
We catch the scent of all the flowers
Ascending to the sky.
Sultan of Song, whose burning eyes
Outblaze the stars above.
Forget not, when the sunset dies
You reign as Lord of Love !
Ah, come to me, my Lute player,
Lover, and Lord of Love !
A few random poems:
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- Stony Grey Soil by Patrick Kavanagh
- Beast and Man in India by Rudyard Kipling
- Au Bal poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Sharing Eve’s Apple poem – John Keats poems
- Upon a Lady’s Fall Over a Stile, Gotten by Running From Her Love by William Wycherley
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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
- To His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor by Phillis Wheatley
- To Captain H—–d, of the 65th Regiment by Phillis Wheatley
- To A Lady On The Death Of The Three Relations by Phillis Wheatley
- To A Lady On The Death Of Her Husband by Phillis Wheatley
- To a Lady on Her Remarkable Preservation by Phillis Wheatley
- To a Lady on Her Coming to North-America by Phillis Wheatley
- To a Lady and Her Children by Phillis Wheatley
- To a Gentleman on His Voyage to Great-Britain by Phillis Wheatley
- To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady’s Brother and Sister by Phillis Wheatley
- To A Clergyman On The Death Of His Lady by Phillis Wheatley
- Thoughts On The Works Of Providence by Phillis Wheatley
- One Being Brought From Africa To America by Phillis Wheatley
- On Virtue by Phillis Wheatley
- On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Sewell by Phillis Wheatley
- On The Death Of Rev. Mr. George Whitefield by Phillis Wheatley
- On The Death Of J. C. An Infant by Phillis Wheatley
- On The Death Of Dr. Samuel Marshall by Phillis Wheatley
- On The Death Of A Young Lady Of Five Years Of Age by Phillis Wheatley
- On the Death of a Young Gentleman by Phillis Wheatley
- On Recollection by Phillis Wheatley
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
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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.