I.
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
As flowers upon the summer wind
Their air-born odours shake,
So, in all fragrance you may find,
I give but what I take.
III.
My tree blooms green through snow and heat;
Your love is sap and root,-
And this is but the breathing sweet
Of fairest blossom-shoot.
IV.
An outgrowth of the happy days
In wedded lives begun-
Two lives, in all their work and ways,
Indissolubly one.
V.
The force that was to bind us so
We very dimly knew.
Ah, love! it seems so long ago,
And yet the years are few.
VI.
We did not wait for tides to rise,
Nor cared that winds were rough;
They call’d us foolish-we were wise;
God gave us wealth enough.
VII.
He only knows what precious change
We took of Him for gold;
What blessing such a narrow range
Of circumstance can hold.
VIII.
No troubles now could memory spare,
No lightest touch of pain;
No hand experience of care
Would we unlearn again.
IX.
Such love surrounds, such beauty lies
On our most common needs,
As silver hoar-frost glorifies
The wayside sticks and weeds.
X.
All trials that are overpast,
All cares that are to be,
But make more sacred and more fast
The ties ‘twixt you and me.
XI.
They are but clear lights shining through
The mist that round us rolls;
They are but touchstones, fine and true
For fond and faithful souls.
XII.
They are but fires, to cleanse and clean
Our human love from stain;
For naught of sordid, false, or mean
From these blest fires remain.
XIII.
They are but keys within the wards
Of that last, inmost door,
Where the heart’s dearest treasure-hoards
Are garner’d evermore.
XIV.
Ah, dear! our very griefs are glad
Our every cross is crown’d;
We are not able to be sad,
Such comfort wraps us round.
XV.
How calm the haven where we rest,
Now passion’s storms are past!
How warm and soft the little nest
Which shelters us at last!
XVI.
How-blue, pellucid, and divine-
Through all our days and nights,
The clear eyes of our children shine
Like heavenly beacon-lights!
XVII.
We listen to the laughter sweet
Whose echoes come and go,
The music of little feet
That patter to and fro.
XVIII.
And deepest thoughts of God awake,
Who hath reveal’d Him thus,
And, in His goodness, deign’d to make
His own abode with us.
XIX.
To God, in Christ, we kneel to-day
(Whose will on earth be done);
As He hath made us, let us pray
That He will keep us, one.
XX.
Together, may we feel Him stand
About our path and bed;
Together may we, hand in hand,
His royal highway tread.
XXI.
The dear ones He has given, to be
Of His redeem’d the type-
Together, may we live to see
Their budding promise ripe.
XXII.
And, O my dearest! may we lie,
In our last night of rest,
Asleep together, peacefully,
Upon our Father’s breast.
A few random poems:
- A Choka Is A Littoral Drift
- On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic by William Wordsworth
- Олег Бундур – Вечером
- Who is now Reading This? by Walt Whitman
- Владимир Маяковский – Все на фронт добровольцами! Пока… (РОСТА)
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Не трать огня напрасных убеждений
- Lover’s Gifts XLIII: Dying, You Have Left Behind by Rabindranath Tagore
- Mark
- June Dreams, In January by Sidney Lanier
- I Didn’t Apologize to the Well by Mahmoud Darwish
- A Woman Unconscious by Ted Hughes
- Lyonnesse by Sylvia Plath
- Ольга Седакова – Из песни Данте
- Юрий Левитанский – Мое поколение
- Winter by Shaunna Harper
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
- Robert Burns: My Lord A-Hunting:
- Robert Burns: The Bonie Moor-Hen:
- Robert Burns: Prologue: Spoken by Mr. Woods on his benefit-night, Monday, 16th April, 1787
- Robert Burns: Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl’s Picture:
- Robert Burns: Epistle To Mrs. Scott: Gudewife of Wauchope-House, Roxburghshire.
- Robert Burns: Inscription For The Headstone Of Fergusson The Poet:
- Robert Burns: Extempore In The Court Of Session:
- Robert Burns: Bonie Dundee:
- Robert Burns: Rattlin’, Roarin’ Willie:
- Robert Burns: Mr. William Smellie -A Sketch:
- Robert Burns: To Miss Logan, With Beattie’s Poems, For A New-Year’s Gift, Jan. 1, 1787:
- Robert Burns: Address To A Haggis:
- Robert Burns: Address To Edinburgh:
- Robert Burns: Yon Wild Mossy Mountains:
- Robert Burns: A Winter Night :
- Robert Burns: On Sensibility: Fragment
- Robert Burns: Epistle To Major Logan:
- Robert Burns: Tam Samson’s Elegy: When this worthy old sportman went out, last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian’s phrase, “the last of his fields,” and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph.-R.B., 1787.
- Robert Burns: Composed In Spring:
- Robert Burns: Inscribed On A Work Of Hannah More’s: Presented to the Author by a Lady.
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
Ada Cambridge (1844 – 1926), also known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian author and poetess. She wrote more than 25 works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works.