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:
- Юргис Балтрушайтис – Чем больше в мире я живу
- The Imperfect Lover by Siegfried Sassoon
- A Drunken Man’s Praise Of Sobriety by William Butler Yeats
- Огюст Барбье – Кола ди Риенци
- Thanatos Basileos poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Mary’s Son by Rudyard Kipling
- A Little Tooth by Thomas Lux
- Владимир Корнилов – Собака подлеца
- Complete Destruction by William Carlos Williams
- Sing Me A Rainbow by Shel Silverstein
- Wandering Singers by Sarojini Naidu
- Xai Kou From Book Seeds Of Faith
- Earth the Healer, Earth the Keeper by William Morris
- To A Little Girl That Has Told A Lie
- Olney Hymn 34: The Waiting Soul by William Cowper
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
- Владимир Высоцкий – О знаках Зодиака
- Владимир Высоцкий – О нашей встрече
- Владимир Высоцкий – О конце войны
- Владимир Высоцкий – Нынче он закончил вехи
- Владимир Высоцкий – Нынче мне не до улыбок
- Владимир Высоцкий – Ну почему
- Владимир Высоцкий – Ну что, Кузьма
- Владимир Высоцкий – Новые левые, мальчики бравые
- Владимир Высоцкий – Невидимка
- Владимир Высоцкий – Неужто здесь сошёлся клином свет
- Владимир Высоцкий – Нет рядом никого, как ни дыши
- Владимир Высоцкий – Нет меня, я покинул Расею
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не заманишь меня на эстрадный концерт
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не возьмут и невзгоды в крутой оборот…
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не писать стихов мне и романов
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не отдавайте в физики детей
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не могу ни выпить, ни забыться
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не дыми, голова трещит
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не бывает кораблей без названия
- Владимир Высоцкий – Наводчица
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.