A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
I
Who was it held that Love was soothing or sweet?
Mine is a painful fire, at its whitest heat.
Who said that Beauty was ever a gentle joy?
Thine is a sword that flashes but to destroy.
Though mine eyes rose up from thy Beauty’s banquet, calm and refreshed,
My lips, that were granted naught, can find no rest.
My soul was linked with thine, through speech and silent hours,
As the sound of two soft flutes combined, or the scent of sister flowers.
But the body, that wretched slave of the Sultan, Mind,
Who follows his master ever, but far behind,
Nothing was granted him, and every rebellious cell
Rises up with angry protest, “It is not well!
Night is falling; thou hast departed; I am alone;
And the Last Sweetness of Love thou hast not given–I have not known!”
II
Somewhere, Oh, My Beloved One, the house is standing,
Waiting for thee and me; for our first caresses.
It may be a river-boat, or a wave-washed landing,
The shade of a tree in the jungle’s dim recesses,
Some far-off mountain tent, ill-pitched and lonely,
Or the naked vault of the purple heavens only.
But the Place is waiting there; till the Hour shall show it,
And our footsteps, following Fate, find it and know it.
Where we shall worship the greatest of all the Gods in his pomp and power,–
I sometimes think that I shall not care to survive that hour!
A few random poems:
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External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
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Poems in English
- A Smuggler’s Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Ripple Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Recantation by Rudyard Kipling
- A Pict Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Nativity by Rudyard Kipling
- A General Summary by Rudyard Kipling
- A Code of Morals by Rudyard Kipling
- A Charm by Rudyard Kipling
- A Carol by Rudyard Kipling
- You Personify God’s Message by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Who Says Words With My Mouth? by Rumi
- Who is at my door? by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- What Hidden Sweetness Is There by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Weary not of us, for we are very beautiful by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- We Are As The Flute by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Until You’ve Found Pain by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Two Kinds of Intelligence by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- At the Twilight by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- This is Love by Rumi
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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.