The Window Overlooking The Harbour

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

Sad is the Evening: all the level sand

Lies left and lonely, while the restless sea,

Tired of the green caresses of the land,

Withdraws into its own infinity.

But still more sad this white and chilly Dawn

Filling the vacant spaces of the sky,

While little winds blow here and there forlorn

And all the stars, weary of shining, die.

And more than desolate, to wake, to rise,

Leaving the couch, where softly sleeping still,

What through the past night made my heaven, lies;

And looking out across the window sill

See, from the upper window’s vantage ground,

Mankind slip into harness once again,

And wearily resume his daily round

Of love and labour, toil and strife and pain.

How the sad thoughts slip back across the night:

The whole thing seems so aimless and so vain.

What use the raptures, passion and delight,

Burnt out; as though they could not wake again.

The worn-out nerves and weary brain repeat

The question: Whither all these passions tend;–

This curious thirst, so painful and so sweet,

So fierce, so very short-lived, to what end?

Even, if seeking for ourselves, the Race,

The only immortality we know,–

Even if from the flower of our embrace

Some spark should kindle, or some fruit should grow,

What were the use? the gain, to us or it,

That we should cause another You or Me,–

Another life, from our light passion lit,

To suffer like ourselves awhile and die.

What aim, what end indeed? Our being runs

In a closed circle. All we know or see

Tends to assure us that a thousand Suns,

Teeming perchance with life, have ceased to be.

Ah, the grey Dawn seems more than desolate,

And the past night of passion worse than waste,

Love but a useless flower, that soon or late,

Turns to a fruit with bitter aftertaste.

Youth, even Youth, seems futile and forlorn

While the new day grows slowly white above.

Pale and reproachful comes the chilly Dawn

After the fervour of a night of love.

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Poems in English 

• The Birch-Tree at Loschwitz poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Straw in the Street poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Sonnet poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Sinfonia Eroica poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Run to Death poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Ralph to Mary poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Philosophy poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Out of Town poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• On the Wye in May poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• On the Threshold poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Oh, Is It Love? poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• New Love, New Life poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Magdalen poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• London Poets poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• London in July poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Lohengrin poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• Last Words poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• June poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• In the Nower poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy
• In the Night poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry by Amy Levy

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Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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