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.
A few random poems:
- Teasing by Pamela Griffiths
- Over The Hill From The Poor-House by Will McKendree Carleton
- A Work Of Artifice by Marge Piercy
- And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time by William Blake
- The Sad Shepherd by William Butler Yeats
- Алишер Навои – Как от вздохов безнадежных дым
- Владимир Британишский – В Емуртлинском форпосте сибирских драгун
- Владимир Корнилов – Слепец
- Hands by Russell Edson
- Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field. by Walt Whitman
- Michael: A Pastoral Poem by William Wordsworth
- Words Of Love Forevermore by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- The Last Laugh poem – John Betjeman poems
- Альфред де Мюссе – Что так усиленно сердце больное
- Юрий Верховский – Зачем, паук, уходишь торопливо
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: There Was A Bonie Lass:
- Robert Burns: Inscription At Friars’ Carse Hermitage: To the Memory of Robert Riddell.
- Robert Burns: Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay:
- Robert Burns: Epigram On Mr. James Gracie:
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. Gabriel Richardson:
- Robert Burns: Apology For Declining An Invitation To Dine:
- Robert Burns: Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries.: Inscription On A Goblet
- Robert Burns: Compliments Of John Syme Of Ryedale: Lines sent with a Present of a Dozen of Porter.
- Robert Burns: The Solemn League And Covenant:
- Robert Burns: Craigieburn Wood:
- Robert Burns: A Man’s A Man For A’ That:
- Robert Burns: For The Sake O’ Somebody:
- Robert Burns: The Tear-Drop:
- Robert Burns: My Nanie’s Awa:
- Robert Burns: Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie:
- Robert Burns: Farewell Thou Stream:
- Robert Burns: Contented Wi’ Little And Cantie Wi’ Mair:
- Robert Burns: Philly And Willy:
- Robert Burns: Lassie Wi’ The Lint-White Locks:
- Robert Burns: The Charming Month Of May:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
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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.