A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Ah, my lord, are the tidings true,
That thy mother’s jewels are shapen anew?
I hear that a bride has chosen been,
The stars consulted, the parents seen.
Had I been childless, had never there smiled
The brilliant eyes from the face of a child,
Then at least I had understood
This thing they tell me thou findest good.
But I have been down to the River of Death,
With painful footsteps and shuddering breath,
Seven times; thou hast daughters three,
And four young sons who are fair as thee.
I am not unlovely, over my head
Not twenty summers as yet have sped.
‘T is eleven years since my opening life
Was given to thee by my father’s wife.
Ah, those days–They were lovely to me,
When little and shy I waited for thee.
Till I locked my arms round my lover above,
A child in form but a woman in love.
And I bore thy sons, as a woman should,
Year by year, as is meet and good.
Thy mother was ever content with me–
And Oh, Beloved, I worshipped thee!
And now it’s over; alas, my lord,
Better I felt thy sharpest sword.
I hear she is youthful and fair as I
When I came to thee in the days gone by.
Her breasts are firmer; this bosom slips
Somewhat, weighted by children’s lips.
But they were thy children. Oh, lord my king,
Ah, why hast thy heart devised this thing ?
I am not as the women of this thy land,
Meek and timid, broken to hand.
From the distant North I was given to thee,
Whose daughters are passionate, fierce and free,
I could not dwell by a rival’s side,
I seek a bridegroom, as thou a bride.
The night she yieldeth her youth to thee,
Death shall take his pleasure in me.
A few random poems:
- The Golden Boat by Rabindranath Tagore
- Another On The Same poem – John Milton poems
- African Artists’ Painting Inspiration
- Thalidomide by Sylvia Plath
- Thought. by Walt Whitman
- On The Menu by Graham Rowlands
- Robert Burns: There Was A Bonie Lass:
- When the Great Ark by Rudyard Kipling
- The Bride poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
- I Went Down into the Desert by Vachel Lindsay
- Is Life Worth Living? poem – Alfred Austin
- Wolves by Mary Bone
- Константин Батюшков – На книгу под названием «Смесь»
- Олег Бундур – Доброта
- Юнна Мориц – Ручеек
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
- A Rustic Seat Near The Sea by William Lisle Bowles
- A Garden-Seat At Home by William Lisle Bowles
- Where fair Sabrina’s wand’ring currents flow by William Somervile
- To the Right Hon. The Earl of Halifax , with the Fable of the Two Springs by William Somervile
- To the Right Hon. Lady Anne Coventry by William Somervile
- To the Duke of Marlborough, upon His Removal From All His Places by William Somervile
- To the Author of the The Essay on Man by William Somervile
- To Dr. MReading Mathmatics by William Somervile
- To a Young Lady, with the Illiad of Homer Translated by William Somervile
- To a Lady, Who Made Me a Present of a Silver Pen by William Somervile
- To a Gentleman, Who Married His Cast Mistress by William Somervile
- To a Discarded Toast by William Somervile
- The Yeoman of Kent by William Somervile
- The Wolf and the Dog by William Somervile
- The Wise Builder by William Somervile
- The Two Springs by William Somervile
- The True Use of the Looking-Glass by William Somervile
- The Superannuated Lover by William Somervile
- The Sheep and the Bush by William Somervile
- The Lamentation of David Over Saul and Jonathan by William Somervile
More external links (open in a new tab):
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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.