A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Syed Amir is dead, and his numerous foes
Are hushed in a breathless awe of amazed relief.
The hearts of his friends are cold as the Tirah snows,
And I am blind and deaf in the Grip of my Grief. —
My Soul has borrowed a portion of Pain from Hell”
Oh, Syed Amir, my brother and Friend, Farewell!
His women weep, but a woman’s tears flow lightly.
A bauble or two, or a child, can soon console.
But I, who am stranger to tears, lie sleepless, nightly,
Feeling the Fangs of-Grief in my desolate soul.
I maddened myself with Churus, it could not cure me-
Ransacked the Bazar, to beg at the hands of lust
An hour’s respite, but how was sin to allure me,
Who know the beauty of Syed Amir is dust?
A little while I wander in Tribulation,
In a Feud or two, or a few light loves take part,
But Death will come, and this is my Consolation,
Men live not long with a stricken and wounded heart’
What further challenge from Fate can I hope or fear,
Who mourn the ruined glory of Syed Amir?
All gifts were Syed Amir’s; an Arrestive Beauty
That caught men’s breath when he passed, Serene and Royal,
A clear and delicate Mind, where Honour and Duty,
Sentried the gate, that nothing might pass disloyal,
And these are taken from Khorassan for ever,
Their light is quenched in the land where he used to dwell,
But I, who loved him, cease from loving him never;
Oh, Syed Amir, my brother and Friend, Farewell!
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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: When She Cam’ Ben She Bobbed :
- Robert Burns: The Weary Pund O’ Tow:
- Robert Burns: Lines On Fergusson, The Poet :
- Robert Burns: I do Confess Thou Art Sae Fair: Alteration of an Old Poem.
- Robert Burns: My Native Land Sae Far Awa:
- Robert Burns: Thou Gloomy December :
- Robert Burns: Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive:
- Robert Burns: Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever:
- Robert Burns: O May, Thy Morn:
- Robert Burns: A Grace After Dinner, Extempore:
- Robert Burns: A Grace Before Dinner, Extempore:
- Robert Burns: The Keekin’-Glass:
- Robert Burns: Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington:
- Robert Burns: The Toadeater:
- Robert Burns: Poem On Sensibility:
- Robert Burns: The Song Of Death: Scene-A Field of Battle. Time of the day-evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song.
- Robert Burns: Second Epistle To Robert Graham, ESQ., Of Fintry:
- Robert Burns: Epistle To John Maxwell, ESQ., Of Terraughty : On His Birthday.
- Robert Burns: O Kenmure’s On And Awa, Willie:
- Robert Burns: I Hae Been At Crookieden:
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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.