The Winged Mariners

Through the wild night, the silence and the dark,

Through league on league of the uncharted sky,

Lonelier than dove of fable from its ark,

The fieldfares fly.

Mate with his tiny mate, and younglings frail,

That only knew the crevice of their tree

Until, in faith stupendous, they set sail

Across the sea.

The black North Sea, that takes such savage toll

Of ships and men-and yet could not appal

These little mariners, who seek their goal

Beyond it all.

Turning those soft, indomitable breasts

To meet the unchained Titans of the deep-

Calm, as if cradled in Norwegian nests,

Their course they keep.

No more than thistledown or flake of snow

To those great gods at play, they win the game;

Never sped archer’s arrow from his bow

With surer aim.

Still tossed and scattered, their unwinking eyes

Point to that pole unseen where wanderings cease;

Still on they press, and warble to the skies

With hearts at peace.

Scenting the English morning in the air,

Through the salt night, ere any morning wakes-

The perfumed fields, the dun woods, sere and bare,

The brambly brakes-

The well-loved orchard, with its hawthorn hedge,

Where luscious berries, red and brown, are found-

The misty miles of water-mead and sedge

Where gnats abound.

But what is this, ‘twixt sea and surf-bound shore?

What form stands there, amid the shadows gray,

With flaming blade that smites them as they soar,

And bars their way?

Hushed are the twittering throats; each silken head

Turns to the voiceless siren-turns and stares-

By some strange lure of mystery and dread

Caught unawares.

It draws them on, as the magnetic sun

Draws vagrant meteors to its burning breast.

The day is near, the harbour all but won-

That English nest.

But here they meet inexorable Fate;

Here lies a dreadful reef of fire and glass;

Here stands a glittering sentry at the gate-

They cannot pass.

Confused, dismayed, they flutter in the gale,

Those little pinions that have lost their track;

The gallant hearts that sped them reel and fail

Like ships aback.

Sucked in a magic current, like a leaf

Torn from autumnal tree, they drift abroad,

But ever nearer to the siren reef,

The ruthless sword.

On, on, transfixed and swooning, without check,

To the lee shore of that bedazzling wall,

Until they strike, and break in utter wreck,

And founder all.

Brave little wings, that sailed the storm so well,

Trimmed to the set of every wayward blast!

Brave little hearts, that never storm could quell,

Beaten at last!

That great sea swallows them, and they are gone,

For ever gone, like bubbles of the foam;

And the bright star that lured them, shining on,

Still points to Home.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor the Prophetic Soul by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CL by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIX by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet C by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 9: Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works