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:
- Федор Сологуб – В иных веках, в иной отчизне
- Новелла Матвеева – Ветер
- By Callimachus by William Cowper
- The Treasure by Sara Teasdale
- Exposure by Seamus Heaney
- Rhyming Reply to a Note from Captain Riddell by Robert Burns
- Sonnet: “It is not to be thought of” by William Wordsworth
- Inscription For A Moss-House In The Shrubbery At Weston by William Cowper
- Beautiful Moroccan by Stanley Wilkin
- Return Of The Heroes by Siegfried Sassoon
- Sonnet CXI by William Shakespeare
- By the Bivouac’s Fitful Flame. by Walt Whitman
- Алексей Плещеев – Есть дни, ни злоба, ни любовь
- Rememberance of that Power by sylvan lightbourne
- Олег Бундур – Ужин
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: I Hae Been At Crookieden:
- Robert Burns: Ye Jacobites By Name:
- Robert Burns: Such A Parcel Of Rogues In A Nation:
- Robert Burns: Frae The Friends And Land I Love:
- Robert Burns: Nithsdale’s Welcome Hame:
- Robert Burns: Address To The Shade Of Thomson: On Crowning His Bust at Ednam, Roxburghshire, with a Wreath of Bays.
- Robert Burns: Sweet Afton :
- Robert Burns: My Bonie Bell:
- Robert Burns: Thou Fair Eliza:
- Robert Burns: O For Ane An’ Twenty, Tam :
- Robert Burns: My Tocher’s The Jewel:
- Robert Burns: Altho’ He Has Left Me:
- Robert Burns: My Eppie Macnab:
- Robert Burns: Johnie Lad, Cock Up Your Beaver:
- Robert Burns: Damon And Sylvia: Fragment
- Robert Burns: Lovely Polly Stewart:
- Robert Burns: You’re Welcome, Willie Stewart:
- Robert Burns: Epigram At Brownhill Inn:
- Robert Burns: The Gallant Weaver:
- Robert Burns: Verses On The Destruction Of The Woods Near Drumlanrig:
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)
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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.