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:
- Fear by Vinko Kalinić
- To Mæcenas by Phillis Wheatley
- The Harvest Bow by Seamus Heaney
- Владимир Британишский – Иона
- An Hymn To The Evening by Phillis Wheatley
- Николай Карамзин – Эпитафия (Он жил в сем мире для того)
- The Season poem – Alfred Austin
- A Parsonage In Oxfordshire by William Wordsworth
- Sonnet Xii
- Love Sonnet LVIII poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- death039s_claim.html
- Broken wings of a Heart by Saajida Gora
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Чёрный цвет
- Sonnet 114: Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you by William Shakespeare
- Robert Burns: Lassie Wi’ The Lint-White Locks:
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 Маяковский – Не юбилейте
- Владимир Маяковский – Не вразброд, не случайно (Главполитпросвет)
- Владимир Маяковский – Не увлекайтесь нами
- Владимир Маяковский – Не только для того, чтоб тебя накормить… (Главполитпросвет №2)
- Владимир Маяковский – Не предаваясь “большевистским бредням” (Красный перец)
- Владимир Маяковский – Не пей сырой воды! (Главполитпросвет №230)
- Владимир Маяковский – Не эти правильно революцию празднуют… (РОСТА №399)
- Владимир Маяковский – Не эти правильно Октябрь празднуют… (РОСТА №398)
- Владимир Маяковский – Наврут полный короб… (Главполитпросвет №68)
- Владимир Маяковский – Наши поправки в англо-советский договор (Красный перец)
- Владимир Маяковский – Наше воскресенье
- Владимир Маяковский – Наш паровоз, стрелой лети
- Владимир Маяковский – Нас шахтер углем поздравит… (РОСТА)
- Владимир Маяковский – Нас потеснили… (РОСТА №337)
- Владимир Маяковский – Нападали белогвардейцы на Донецкий бассейн… (РОСТА №611)
- Владимир Маяковский – Нам бы только вот это воскресити… (РОСТА)
- Владимир Маяковский – Головотяпам
- Владимир Маяковский – Голос Красной площади
- Владимир Маяковский – Голодные! Пан Украину грабит… (РОСТА №106)
- Владимир Маяковский – Глупая история
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.