Vayu The Wind

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

Ah, Wind, I have always loved thee

Since those far off nights

When I lay beneath the vines

A prey to strange delights,

For among my tresses

Thy soft caresses

Were sweet as a lover’s to me.

Later thou grewest more wanton, or I more shy,

And after the bath I drew my garments close,

Fearing thy soft persuasion amongst my hair

When thou camest fresh with the scent of some ruffled rose.

Ah, Wind, thou hast lain with the Desert,

I know her savour well,

And the spices wherewith she scents her breasts–

She who has known such countless lovers

Yet rarely borne a city among her sands–

Thou comest as one from a night of love,

Thy breath is broken and hard,–

Bringing echoes of lonely things,

Vast and cruel, that the soft and golden sands

Buried beneath thin ripples so long ago.

Ah, Wind, thou hast given me lovely things,

The scent of a thousand flowers,

And the heavy perfume of pollen-laden fields,

Strange snatches of wild song from the heart of the dark Bazaar

That thrilled to my very core,

Till I threw the sheet aside and rose to follow,–

But whither, or what?

Also, Wind, thou broughtest the breath of the sea,

The sound of its myriad waves.

And in nights when I lay on the lonely sands

Stretching mine arms to thee,

Thou gavest me something–faint and vast and sweet,

Something ineffable, wistful, from far away,

Elsewhere–Beyond–

And thou wast kind to me in my times of love,

Cooling my lips

That my lover wore away,

While, wafting the scent from his divided hair,

Thou show’dst the stars between

Far away, and eclipsed by his burning eyes

Even the stars.

And now I almost foresee the place and the hour

When I shall open my dying lips to thee

And receive a last cool kiss.

Afterwards, Wind, since I have always loved thee,–

Whirl my dust to the scented heart of a moghra flower,

_His_ flower, but, ah, thou knowest,–

So often thy kisses have mingled with his and mine.

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Poems in English 

• Woman And The Weed poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Willie’s Ladye poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Waly, Waly poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Villion’s Ballade Of Good Counsel, To His Friends Of Evil Life poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Valentine In Form Of Ballade poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• Three Portraits Of Prince Charles poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Wife Of Usher’s Well poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Twa Sisters poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Queen’s Marie poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Odyssey poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Moon’s Minion poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Loving Ballad Of Lord Bateman poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Laird Of Waristoun poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Heir Of Lynne poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Fairy’s Gift poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Elphin Nourrice poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Dowie Dens Of Yarrow poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Douglas Tragedy poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Burial Of Moliere poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang
• The Broomfield Hill poem – Andrew Lang poems by Andrew Lang

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Adela Florence Nicolson

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 andis buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.

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