A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
This man has taken my Husband’s life
And laid my Brethren low,
No sister indeed, were I, no wife,
To pardon and let him go.
Yet why does he look so young and slim
As he weak and wounded lies?
How hard for me to be harsh to him
With his soft, appealing eyes.
His hair is ruffled upon the stone
And the slender wrists are bound,
So young! and yet he has overthrown
His scores on the battle ground.
Would I were only a slave to-day,
To whom it were right and meet
To wash the stains of the War away,
The dust from the weary feet.
Were I but one of my serving girls
To solace his pain to rest!
Shake out the sand from the soft loose curls,
And hold him against my breast!
Have we such beauty around our Throne?
Such lithe and delicate strength?
Would God that I were the senseless stone
To support his slender length!
I hate those wounds that trouble my sight,
Unknown! how I wish you lay,
Alone in my silken tent to-night
While I charmed the pain away.
I would lay you down on the Royal bed,
I would bathe your wounds with wine,
And setting your feet against my head
Dream you were lover of mine.
My Crown is heavy upon my hair,
The Jewels weigh on my breast,
All I would leave, with delight, to share
Your pale and passionate rest!
But hands grow restless about their swords,
Lips murmur below their breath,
“The Queen is silent too long!” “My Lords,
–Take him away to death!”

A few random poems:
- Nature And the Book poem – Alfred Austin
- Владимир Маяковский – Было с белым много дел… (Главполитпросвет №44)
- À ce point du voyage by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Анатолий Жигулин – Мне помнится рудник Бутугычаг
- Daryl, My Son by Ronald G. Auguste
- Helen all Alone by Rudyard Kipling
- Robert Burns: Yon Wild Mossy Mountains:
- Юрий Левитанский – Кинематограф
- Владимир Маяковский – Чтоб нас не заела разруха зубами голодных годов… (Главполитпросвет №7)
- The Indian To His Love by William Butler Yeats
- Валерий Брюсов – Ленин
- In Praise of Songs that Die by Vachel Lindsay
- Love’s Fitfulness poem – Alfred Austin
- Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 125: Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy by William Shakespeare
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
- The End by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Child-Angel by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Chanpa Flower by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Boat by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Banyan Tree by Rabindranath Tagore
- Superior by Rabindranath Tagore
- Strong Mercy by Rabindranath Tagore
- Still Heart by Rabindranath Tagore
- Song Unsung by Rabindranath Tagore
- Sleep by Rabindranath Tagore
- Sit Smiling by Rabindranath Tagore
- Silent Steps by Rabindranath Tagore
- Signet of Eternity by Rabindranath Tagore
- She by Rabindranath Tagore
- Senses by Rabindranath Tagore
- Seashore by Rabindranath Tagore
- Salutation by Rabindranath Tagore
- Sail Away by Rabindranath Tagore
- Roaming Cloud by Rabindranath Tagore
- Purity by Rabindranath Tagore
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.