A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
No others sing as you have sung
Oh, Well Beloved of me!
So glad you are, so lithe and young,
As joyous as the sea,
That dances in the golden rain
The falling sunbeams fling, –
Ah, stoop and kiss me once again
Then take your lute and sing.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
Take up your lute and sing !
The wind comes blowing, light and free :
In all the summer isles
No laughing thing it found to see
As brilliant as your smiles.
You are the very heart of Youth,
The very Soul of Song,
That lovely dream, made living truth.
For which the poets long.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
The very Soul of Song !
Ah, dear and dark-eyed Lute player
This joy is almost pain,
To reach, when evening cools the air.
Your level roof again.
To see the palms, erect and slim,
Against a golden sky,
And hear, as twilight closes dim.
The Mouddin’s mournful cry.
Across your songs, my Lute player.
The Faithful’s evening cry.
Each slender finger lightly slips,
To its appointed strings.
Ah, the sweet scarlet, parted lips
Of One Beloved, who sings !
Ah, the soft radiance of eyes
By love and music lit !
What need of Heaven beyond the skies
Since here we enter it ?
You make my Heaven, my Lute player.
And hold the keys of it !
And when the music waxes strong
I hear the sound of War,
The drums are throbbing in the song.
The clamour and the roar.
The Desert’s self is in the strain.
The agony of slaves,
The winds that sigh, as if in pain.
About forgotten graves.
Oh, Lute player, my Lute player,
Those lonely Desert graves !
The sightless sockets, whence the eyes,
Were wrenched or burnt away,
The mangled form that e’er it dies,
Becomes the jackals’ prey.
The forced caress, the purchased smile,
Ere youth be yet awake, —
Ah, break your melody awhile
Or else my heart will break !
I sometimes think, my Lute player,
You wish my heart to break !
The sunset fires desert the West,
The stars invade the sky.
Lover of mine, ’tis time to rest
And let the music die.
Though Melody awake the morn.
Yet Love should end the day.
I kiss your hand the strings have worn
And take your lute away.
I kiss your hand, my Lute player,
And take the Lute away.
At twilight on this roof of ours,
So lonely and so high.
We catch the scent of all the flowers
Ascending to the sky.
Sultan of Song, whose burning eyes
Outblaze the stars above.
Forget not, when the sunset dies
You reign as Lord of Love !
Ah, come to me, my Lute player,
Lover, and Lord of Love !
A few random poems:
- Стефан Малларме – Устав от горького бездействия и лени
- Creation poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Скажите
- It was a Lover and his Lass by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Маяковский – Помни о дне красной казармы! (РОСТА № 732)
- Ballad of the Old Cypress by Tu Fu
- The Song of the Shirt by Thomas Hood
- Psyche by Samuel Coleridge
- Sting by Muralidharan Mudaliar
- Юргис Балтрушайтис – Мой сад
- The First Jasmines by Rabindranath Tagore
- For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her by William Strode
- The house where I was born (06) by Yves Bonnefoy
- A Rustic Seat Near The Sea by William Lisle Bowles
- houses.html
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
- Fringed Gentian poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Frankincense and Myrrh poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Francis II, King of Naples poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Francis II, King of Naples poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Fragment poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Fool’s Money Bags poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Excerpt from “What’s O’Clock” poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Dreams poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Diya {original title is Greek, Delta-iota-psi-alpha} poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Crowned poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Crepuscule du Matin poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Crepuscule du Matin poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Convalescence poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Convalescence poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Climbing poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Climbing poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Clear, with Light, Variable Winds poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Behind a Wall poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
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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.