Low on her little stool she sits
To make a nursing lap,
And cares for nothing but the form
Her little arms enwrap.
With hairless skull that gapes apart,
A broken plaster ball,
One chipped glass eye that squints askew,
And ne’er a nose at all-
No raddle left on grimy cheek,
No mouth that one can see-
It scarce discloses, at a glance,
What it was meant to be.
But something in the simple scheme
As it extends below
(It is the “tidy” from my chair
That she is rumpling so)-
A certain folding of the stuff
That winds the thing about
(But still permits the sawdust gore
To trickle down and out)-
The way it curves around her waist,
On little knees outspread-
Implies a body frail and dear,
Whence one infers a head.
She rocks the scarecrow to and fro,
With croonings soft and deep,
A lullaby designed to hush
The bunch of rags to sleep.
I ask what rubbish has she there.
“My dolly,” she replies,
But tone and smile and gesture say,
“My angel from the skies.”
Ineffable the look of love
Cast on the hideous blur
That somehow means a precious face,
Most beautiful, to her.
The deftness and the tenderness
Of her caressing hands . . . . . .
How can she possibly divine
For what the creature stands?
Herself a nurseling, that has seen
The summers and the snows
Of scarce five years of baby life.
And yet she knows-she knows.
Just as a puppy of the pack
Knows unheard huntsman’s call,
And knows it is a running hound
Before it learns to crawl.
Just as she knew, when hardly born,
The breast unseen before,
And knew-how well!-before they touched,
What milk and mouth were for.
So, by some mystic extra-sense
Denied to eyes and ears,
Her spirit communes with its own
Beyond the veil of years.
She hears unechoing footsteps run
On floors she never trod,
Sees lineaments invisible
As is the face of God-
Forms she can recognise and greet,
Though wholly hid from me.
Alas! a treasure that is not,
And that may never be.
The majesty of motherhood
Sits on her baby brow;
Before her little three-legged throne
My grizzled head must bow.
That dingy bundle in her arms
Symbols immortal things-
A heritage, by right divine,
Beyond the claims of kings.
A few random poems:
- Her Reply by Sir Walter Raleigh
- On A Miser, 3 (From The Greek) by William Cowper
- The Simplon Pass by William Wordsworth
- Written for a Musician by Vachel Lindsay
- Before by Robert Browning
- Laodamia by William Wordsworth
- Валерий Брюсов – Есть поразительная белость
- Eyes Look Into The Well by W H Auden
- Paradise Regained: The Second Book poem – John Milton poems
- Splenda by Rob Leatherman Sr.
- Robert Burns: Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl’s Picture:
- Psalm Three by Mahmoud Darwish
- The Last Breath of a Ship by Tri Tran
- To A Lady On The Death Of Her Husband by Phillis Wheatley
- Where Shall We Go? by Vernon Scannell
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
- Ок Мельникова – Тоской тома йорка
- Ок Мельникова – Сохрани
- Ок Мельникова – Sha man
- Ок Мельникова – Птицей
- Ок Мельникова – Профессия рок-звезда
- Ок Мельникова – Подростковые драмы
- Ок Мельникова – Плацкарт-блюз
- Ок Мельникова – От киева до сантьяго
- Ок Мельникова – Обет молчания
- Ок Мельникова – Не в этот раз
- Ок Мельникова – Не горим, не светим
- Ок Мельникова – Моя муза любитель блюза
- Ок Мельникова – Let it be
- Ок Мельникова – Карниз
- Ок Мельникова – Hey jude
- Ок Мельникова – Где-то на приморском
- Ок Мельникова – Гасите звёзды
- Ок Мельникова – Если есть от кого ждать писем
- Ок Мельникова – Что рассказать?
- Ок Мельникова – Блюз-16
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.