A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
At day-break, when the tide was low
He came to bathe his slender feet,
And laughing, sported to and fro,
Across my waters cool and sweet.
Obedient to his Faith’s decree
His sable hair was shorn away,
One curl was left, that floating free,
I longed to deck with silver spray.
His eyes were wide and full of light,
Young eyes, where dreams and fancies glow.
There was no star in Heaven so bright,
And I reflect the stars, and know.
He gave himself to my embrace,
Ah, Youth, confiding and unwise !
My Kisses clustered on his face
How should I render up my prize?
Yet he withdrew ; my waves were weak.
He loitered on my banks awhile,
Shook my caresses from his cheek. ‘
And left me with a careless smile.
I let him leave; my tides were low.
But, seeking succour of the Sea
At noon I felt the breakers flow
Across the bar, and join with me.
I waited in the heat; at length
Again he came to bathe alone.
Then, in the fullness of my strength.
I caught and held him for my own!
His strong young arms apart he flung,
His red lips cried, I had no care.
In eddies round his limbs I clung,
And rippled in and out his hair.
I bore him downwards to the Sea,
The white surf, met us on the sand
His beauty was made one with me
Who saw and loved it on the land.
I laid him down upon the bar,
Played with his hair, and kissed his eyes.
How cold these mortal lovers are!
He sleeps and makes me no replies.
My tides run low; he will not wake,
His hand drifts like an empty shell.
I stole him for his beauty’s sake,
Alas, Enfifa did not well!
His young lips show no stir of breath.
Ah, – I begin to understand,
And I remember: – this is Death!
The haunting terror of the land.
A few random poems:
- Нина Воронель – Мой дед был слепым
- Madonna of the Evening Flowers poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Sonnet To Sleep poem – John Keats poems
- Surprised By Joy by William Wordsworth
- Федор Сологуб – Астероид
- A Virginal poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Astrophel and Stella: XXXIII by Sir Philip Sidney
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- The Rape of the Lock: Canto 3 poem – Alexander Pope
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- Moon, I hear you are moving away by Raj Arumugam
- If Truth in Hearts That Perish poem – A. E. Housman
- Unlike, For Example, The Sound Of A Riptooth Saw by Thomas Lux
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):
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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.