A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
The Temple bells are ringing,
The young green corn is springing,
And the marriage month is drawing very near.
I lie hidden in the grass,
And I count the moments pass,
For the month of marriages is drawing near.
Soon, ah, soon, the women spread
The appointed bridal bed
With hibiscus buds and crimson marriage flowers,
Where, when all the songs are done,
And the dear dark night begun,
I shall hold her in my happy arms for hours.
She is young and very sweet,
From the silver on her feet
To the silver and the flowers in her hair,
And her beauty makes me swoon,
As the Moghra trees at noon
Intoxicate the hot and quivering air.
Ah, I would the hours were fleet
As her silver circled feet,
I am weary of the daytime and the night;
I am weary unto death,
Oh my rose with jasmin breath,
With this longing for your beauty and your light.
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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
- Life of Ms Anonymous by Raj Arumugam
- life begins tomorrow by Raj Arumugam
- Li Po, the moon and me by Raj Arumugam
- Li Po drowns by Raj Arumugam
- Let us pull, pull the boat by Raj Arumugam
- let us go with no care by Raj Arumugam
- let the calm of the evening by Raj Arumugam
- let’s love the lawn by Raj Arumugam
- let’s go mummy by Raj Arumugam
- laugh to cry by Raj Arumugam
- last words to the moon by Raj Arumugam
- Kangaroo talks to the Sun by Raj Arumugam
- Kadambari by Raj Arumugam
- it flows by Raj Arumugam
- in praise of the moon by Raj Arumugam
- I waited by Raj Arumugam
- I see you moon by Raj Arumugam
- I just love you by Raj Arumugam
- I bring hope and love by Raj Arumugam
- I am Yun Du-seo by Raj Arumugam
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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.