A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Something compels me, somewhere. Yet I see
No clear command in Life’s long mystery.
Oft have I flung myself beside my horse,
To drink the water from the roadside mire,
And felt the liquid through my being course,
Stilling the anguish of my thirst’s desire.
A simple want; so easily allayed;
After the burning march; water and shade.
Also I lay against the loved one’s heart
Finding fulfilment in that resting-place,
Feeling my longing, quenched, was but a part
Of nature’s ceaseless striving for the race.
But now, I know not what they would with me;
Matter or Force or God, if Gods there be.
I wait; I question; Nature heeds me not.
She does but urge in answer to my prayer,
“Arise and do!” Alas, she adds not what;
“Arise and go!” Alas, she says not where!

A few random poems:
- Lover’s Gifts V: I Would Ask For Still More by Rabindranath Tagore
- Robert Burns: Tam O’ Shanter: A Tale
- Landowners by Sylvia Plath
- Юнна Мориц – Смелый гусь
- Miserimus
- Омар Хайям – Дай коснуться, любимая, прядей густых
- The Princess (part 4) poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Омар Хайям – Будь камнем твердым я
- Lament For The Two Brothers Slain By Each Others Hand
- The Motherless Child by William Barnes
- Everlasting Wander by Rixa White
- Василий Казин – Ну, тебя ль, далекая
- How To Achieve Self-Realization, The Mother of All Knowledge?
- Михаил Кузмин – Запел петух, таинственный предвестник
- Dockery And Son by Philip Larkin
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 115: Those lines that I before have writ do lie by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 114: Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 113: Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 111: O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 110: Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear’st love to any by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 108: What’s in the brain that ink may character by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 106: When in the chronicle of wasted time by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LIV by William Shakespeare
- Silvia by William Shakespeare
- Sigh No More 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.