A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Was it worth while to forego our wings
To gain these dextrous hands ?
Truly they fashion us wonderful things
As the fancy of man demands.
But–to fly! to sail through the lucid air
From crest to violet crest
Of these great grey mountains, quartz-veined and bare,
Where the white clouds gather and rest.
Even to flutter from flower to flower,–
To skim the tops of the trees,–
In the roseate light of a sun-setting hour
To drift on a sea-going breeze.
Ay, the hands have marvellous skill
To create us curious things,–
Baubles, playthings, weapons to kill,–
But–I would we had chosen wings!
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: The Wounded Hare:
- Locked Away by Margaret Marie Hubbard
- When ‘Omer Smote ‘Is Bloomin’ Lyre by Rudyard Kipling
- Владимир Британишский – Утром 10 мая 1945 года
- Владимир Маяковский – Журнал “Крысодав”
- Николай Огарев – Свисти ты, о ветер, с бессонною силой
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Ночь близ Якац
- The Mother by Patrick Pearse
- Владимир Маяковский – Электричество – вид энергии
- Let Me Not Forget by Rabindranath Tagore
- When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Костров – Просыпаюсь от сердечной боли
- Ballade Of Dead Ladies poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Стефан Малларме – В идоложертвенном ликующем костре
- Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all 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
- Sonnet 20: A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 19: Devouring Time blunt thou the lion’s paws by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 17: Who will believe my verse in time to come by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 16: But wherefore do not you a mightier way by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 15: When I consider every thing that grows by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 154: The little Love-god lying once asleep by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 153: Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 152: In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 151: Love is too young to know what conscience is by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 150: O from what power hast thou this powerful might by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 53: What is your substance, whereof are you made by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 52: So am I as the rich whose blessèd key by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 51: Thus can my love excuse the slow offence by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 50: How heavy do I journey on the way by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 4: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 49: Against that time, if ever that time come 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.