A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
“And when the Summer Heat is great,
And every hour intense,
The Moghra, with its subtle flowers,
Intoxicates the sense.”
The Coco palms stood tall and slim, against the golden-glow,
And all their grey and graceful plumes were waving to and fro.
She lay forgetful in the boat, and watched the dying Sun
Sink slowly lakewards, while the stars replaced him, one by one.
She saw the marble Temple walls long white reflections make,
The echoes of their silvery bells were blown across the lake.
The evening air was very sweet; from off the island bowers
Came scents of Moghra trees in bloom, and Oleander flowers.
“The Moghra flowers that smell so sweet
When love’s young fancies play;
The acrid Moghra flowers, still sweet
Though love be burnt away.”
The boat went drifting, ucontrolled, the rower rowed no more,
But deftly turned the slender prow towards the further shore.
The dying sunset touched with gold the Jasmin in his hair;
His eyes were darkly luminous: she looked and found him fair.
And so persuasively he spoke, she could not say him nay,
And when his young hands took her own, she smiled and let them stay.
And all the youth awake in him, all love of Love in her,
All scents of white and subtle flowers that filled the twilight air
Combined together with the night in kind conspiracy
To do Love service, while the boat went drifting onwards, free.
“The Moghra flowers, the Moghra flowers,
While Youth’s quick pulses play
They are so sweet, they still are sweet,
Though passion burns away.”
Low in the boat the lovers lay, and from his sable curls
The Jasmin flowers slipped away to rest among the girl’s.
Oh, silver lake and silver night and tender silver sky!
Where as the hours passed, the moon rose white and cold on high.
“The Moghra flowers, the Moghra flowers,
So dear to Youth at play;
The small and subtle Moghra flowers
That only last a day.”
Suddenly, frightened, she awoke, and waking vaguely saw
The boat had stranded in the sedge that fringed the further shore.
The breeze grown chilly, swayed the palms; she heard, still half awake,
A prowling jackal’s hungry cry blown faintly o’er the lake.
She shivered, but she turned to kiss his soft, remembered face,
Lit by the pallid light he lay, in Youth’s abandoned grace.
But as her lips met his she paused, in terror and dismay,
The white moon showed her by her side asleep a Leper lay.
“Ah, Moghra flowers, white Moghra flowers,
All love is blind, they say;
The Moghra flowers, so sweet, so sweet,
Though love be burnt away!”
A few random poems:
- Tumult by Nicole M Nugent
- Robert Burns: Lines On The Author’s Death: Written With The Supposed View Of Being Handed To Rankine After The Poet’s Interment
- Cold Eyes by Vaishnavi Prakash
- Stones
- Владимир Корнилов – Спортлото
- was_then.html
- Magnolia Shoals by Sylvia Plath
- Гавриил Державин – Пчелка
- Владимир Набоков – Спроси у хрустальной луны
- Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church: Who was looking up the text during sermon.
- Mae Marsh, Motion Picture Actress by Vachel Lindsay
- Are You Content? by William Butler Yeats
- All through eternity by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Олег Бундур – Настроение
- Владимир Маяковский – Электричество – вид энергии
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
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit MDCCCXXXIII: 3. O Sorrow, cruel poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: Is it, then, regret for buried time poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 99. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95. By night we linger’d on the lawn poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 83. Dip down upon the northern shore poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 82. I wage not any feud with death poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 7. Dark house, by which once more I s poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 78. Again at Christmas did we weave poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 5. Sometimes I Hold it half a Sin poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 55. The wish, that of the living whol poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 45. The baby new to earth and sky poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 39. Old warder of these buried bones poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 2. Old Yew, which graspest at the sto poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 22. The path by which we twain did go poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 16. I Envy not in any Moods poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 15. To-night the winds begin to rise poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 126. Love is and was my Lord and King poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
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
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.