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:
- Sonnet On The Death Of Mr Richard West by Thomas Gray
- You Are Mine by Pushpendra Singh Baghel
- The Road To Ruin by Siegfried Sassoon
- Владимир Маяковский – Рассказ о Климе, купившем заем, и Прове, не подумавшем о счастье своем
- Love thy Country and Do a useful Act – Gurazada by Vijay Narayana Chilaka
- Robert Burns: Ode On The Departed Regency Bill:
- Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Британишский – Уронили, потеряли
- O my faithful by Priyanka Tungana
- Schoolroom On A Wet Afternoon by Vernon Scannell
- Высоцкий – Диалог у телевизора (Ой, Вань, смотри какие клоуны): текст стиха Владимира Высоцкого – Poetry Monster
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песня Попугая
- polyphony_in_a_cathedral.html
- Robert Burns: Epistle To James Smith:
- The Death Of Grant poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
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
- At The Abbey Theatre by William Butler Yeats
- At Galway Races by William Butler Yeats
- At Algeciras; A Meditaton Upon Death by William Butler Yeats
- Are You Content? by William Butler Yeats
- Another Song Of A Fool by William Butler Yeats
- An Irish Airman Forsees His Death by William Butler Yeats
- An Image From A Past Life by William Butler Yeats
- An Appointment by William Butler Yeats
- An Acre Of Grass by William Butler Yeats
- All Things Can Tempt Me by William Butler Yeats
- Against Unworthy Praise by William Butler Yeats
- After Long Silence by William Butler Yeats
- Adam’s Curse by William Butler Yeats
- A Woman Homer Sung by William Butler Yeats
- A Thought From Propertius by William Butler Yeats
- A Stick Of Incense by William Butler Yeats
- A Statesman’s Holiday by William Butler Yeats
- A Song From ‘The Player Queen’ by William Butler Yeats
- A Song by William Butler Yeats
- A Prayer On Going Into My House by William Butler Yeats
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.