Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Adela Florence Nicolson, better known by her pen name Laurence Hope, was an English poet who gained popularity in the early 20th century for her verse inspired by Indian themes and settings. She was born on April 9, 1865, in Stoke Bishop, England. Nicolson's work is often associated with themes of love, longing, and the exoticism of the East. She tragically ended her own life on October 4, 1904. Despite her short life, her poetry left a lasting impact and continues to be read and appreciated.

April 9, 1865

October 4, 1904

English

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Adoration

Who does not feel desire unending
    To solace through his daily strife,
With some mysterious Mental Blending,
    The hungry loneliness of life?

Until, by sudden passion shaken,
    As terriers shake a rat at play,
He finds, all blindly, he has taken
    The old, Hereditary way.

Yet, in the moment of communion,
    The very heart of passion's fire,
His spirit spurns the mortal union,
    "Not this, not this, the Soul's desire!"

    *    *    *    *

Oh You, by whom my life is riven,
    And reft away from my control,
Take back the hours of passion given!
    Love me one moment from your soul.

Although I once, in ardent fashion,
    Implored you long to give me this;
(In hopes to stem, or stifle, passion)
    Y...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Afridi Love

Since, Oh, Beloved, you are not even faithful
    To me, who loved you so, for one short night,
For one brief space of darkness, though my absence
    Did but endure until the dawning light;

Since all your beauty - which was mine - you squandered
    On that which now lies dead across your door;
See here this knife, made keen and bright to kill you.
    You shall not see the sun rise any more.

Lie still!    Lie still!    In all the empty village
    Who is there left to hear or heed your cry?
All are gone to labour in the valley,
    Who will return before your time to die?

No use to struggle; when I found you sleeping,
    I took your hands and bound them to your side,
And both these slender feet, too apt at straying,
    Down to th...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Among the Rice Fields

She was fair as a Passion-flower,
(But little of love he knew.)
Her lucent eyes were like amber wine,
And her eyelids stained with blue.

He called them the Gates of Fair Desire,
And the Lakes where Beauty lay,
But I looked into them once, and saw
The eyes of Beasts of Prey.

He praised her teeth, that were small and white
As lilies upon his lawn,
While I remembered a tiger's fangs
That met in a speckled fawn.

She had her way; a lover the more,
And I had a friend the less.
For long there was nothing to do but wait
And suffer his happiness.

But now I shall choose the sharpest Kriss
And nestle it in her breast,
For dead, he is drifting down to sea,
And his own hand wrought his rest

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Ashore

Out I came from the dancing-place:
The night-wind met me face to face -

A wind off the harbour, cold and keen,
"I know," it whistled, "where thou hast been."

A faint voice fell from the stars above -
"Thou? whom we lighted to shrines of Love!"

I found when I reached my lonely room
A faint sweet scent in the unlit gloom.

And this was the worst of all to bear,
For someone had left while lilac there.

The flower you loved, in times that were.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Atavism

Deep in the jungle vast and dim,
That knew not a white man's feet,
I smelt the odour of sun-warmed fur,
Musky, savage, and sweet.

Far it was from the huts of men
And the grass where Sambur feed;
I threw a stone at a Kadapu tree
That bled as a man might bleed.

Scent of fur and colour of blood: -
And the long dead instincts rose,
I followed the lure of my season's mate, -
And flew, bare-fanged, at my foes.

*        *        *

Pale days: and a league of laws
Made by the whims of men.
Would I were back with my furry cubs
In the dusk of a jungle den.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Back to the Border

The tremulous morning is breaking
    Against the white waste of the sky,
And hundreds of birds are awaking
    In tamarisk bushes hard by.
I, waiting alone in the station,
    Can hear in the distance, grey-blue,
The sound of that iron desolation,
    The train that will bear me from you.

'T will carry me under your casement,
    You'll feel in your dreams as you lie
The quiver, from gable to basement,
    The rush of my train sweeping by.
And I shall look out as I pass it, -
    Your dear, unforgettable door,
'T was ours till last night, but alas! it
    Will never be mine any more.

Through twilight blue-grey and uncertain,
    Where frost leaves the window-pane free,
I'll look at the tinsel-edged curtain
    That hid so muc...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Camp Follower's Song, Gomal River

We have left Gul Kach behind us,
    Are marching on Apozai, -
Where pleasure and rest are waiting
    To welcome us by and by.

We're falling back from the Gomal,
    Across the Gir-dao plain,
The camping ground is deserted,
    We'll never come back again.

Along the rocks and the defiles,
    The mules and the camels wind.
Good-bye to Rahimut-Ullah,
    The man who is left behind.

For some we lost in the skirmish,
    And some were killed in the fight,
But he was captured by fever,
    In the sentry pit, at night.

A rifle shot had been swifter,
    Less trouble a sabre thrust,
But his Fate decided fever,
    And each man dies as he must.

Behind us, red in the distance.
    The wavering flames rise high,

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Dedication to Malcolm Nicolson

I, who of lighter love wrote many a verse,
Made public never words inspired by thee,
Lest strangers' lips should carelessly rehearse
Things that were sacred and too dear to me.

Thy soul was noble; through these fifteen years
Mine eyes familiar, found no fleck nor flaw,
Stern to thyself, thy comrades' faults and fears
Proved generously thine only law.

Small joy was I to thee; before we met
Sorrow had left thee all too sad to save.
Useless my love--as vain as this regret
That pours my hopeless life across thy grave.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Deserted Gipsy's Song: Hillside Camp

She is glad to receive your turquoise ring,
    Dear and dark-eyed Lover of mine!
I, to have given you everything:
    Beauty maddens the soul like Wine.

"She is proud to have held aloof her charms,
    Slender, dark-eyed Lover of mine!
But I, of the night you lay in my arms:
    Beauty maddens the sense like Wine!

"She triumphs to think that your heart is won,
    Stately, dark-eyed Lover of mine!
I had not a thought of myself, not one:
    Beauty maddens the brain like Wine!

"She will speak you softly, while skies are blue,
    Dear, deluded Lover of mine!
I would lose both body and soul for you:
    Beauty maddens the brain like Wine!

"While the ways are fair she will love you well,
    Dear, disdainful Lover of mine!
But I...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Disappointment

Oh, come, Beloved, before my beauty fades,
Pity the sorrow of my loneliness.
I am a Rosebush that the Cypress shades,
No sunbeams find or lighten my distress.

Daily I watch the waning of my bloom.
Ah, piteous fading of a thing so fair!
While Fate, remorseless, weaving at her loom,
Twines furtive silver in my twisted hair.

This noon I watched a tremulous fading rose
Rise on the wind to court a butterfly.
"One speck of pollen, ere my petals close,
Bring me one touch of love before I die!"

But the gay butterfly, who had the power
To grant, refused, flew far across the dell,
And, as he fertilised a younger flower,
The petals of the rose, defrauded, fell.

Such was my fate, thou hast not come to me,
Thine eyes are absent, and thy voice i...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Early Love

Who says I wrong thee, my half-opened rose?
Little he knows of thee or me, or love. -
I am so tender of thy fragile youth,
Yea, in my hours of wildest ecstasy,
Keeping close-bitted each careering sense.
Only I give mine eyes unmeasured law
To feed them where they will, and their delight
Was curbed at first, until thy tender shame
Died in the bearing of thy first born joy.

I am not cruel, my half-opened rose,
Though in the sunshine of my own desire
I have uncurled thy petals to the light
And fed the tendrils of thy dawning sense
With delicate caresses, till they leave
Thee tremulous with the newness of thy joy,
Sharing thy lover's fire with innocent flame.

Others will wrong thee, that I well foresee,
Being a man, knowing my fellow men,

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Famine Song

Death and Famine on every side
    And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
    Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
    To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
    And drink your lips like wine!

Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death,
    And the brave red blood set free,
The glazing eye and the failing breath, -
    But what are these things to me?
Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright
    And your blood is red like wine,
And I shall sleep in your arms to-night
    And hold your lips with mine!

I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
    Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
    Fulfilling man's tale of pain.
But ...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Fancy

Far in the Further East the skilful craftsman
    Fashioned this fancy for the West's delight.
This rose and azure Dragon, crouching softly
    Upon the satin skin, close-grained and white.

And you lay silent, while his slender needles
    Pricked the intricate pattern on your arm,
Combining deftly Cruelty and Beauty,
    That subtle union, whose child is charm.

Charm irresistible: the lovely something
    We follow in our dreams, but may not reach.
The unattainable Divine Enchantment,
    Hinted in music, never heard in speech.

This from the blue design exhales towards me,
    As incense rises from the Homes of Prayer,
While the unfettered eyes, allured and rested,
    Urge the forbidden lips to stoop and share;

Share in the sweetness ...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Farewell

Farewell, Aziz, it was not mine to fold you
    Against my heart for any length of days.
I had no loveliness, alas, to hold you,
    No siren voice, no charm that lovers praise.

Yet, in the midst of grief and desolation,
    Solace I my despairing soul with this:
Once, for my life's eternal consolation,
    You lent my lips your loveliness to kiss.

Ah, that one night!    I think Love's very essence
    Distilled itself from out my joy and pain,
Like tropical trees, whose fervid inflorescence
    Glows, gleams, and dies, never to bloom again.

Often I marvel how I met the morning
    With living eyes after that night with you,
Ah, how I cursed the wan, white light for dawning,
    And mourned the paling stars, as each withdrew!

Yet I, eve...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Fate Knows no Tears

Just as the dawn of Love was breaking
    Across the weary world of grey,
Just as my life once more was waking
    As roses waken late in May,
Fate, blindly cruel and havoc-making,
    Stepped in and carried you away.

Memories have I none in keeping
    Of times I held you near my heart,
Of dreams when we were near to weeping
    That dawn should bid us rise and part;
Never, alas, I saw you sleeping
    With soft closed eyes and lips apart,

Breathing my name still through your dreaming. -
    Ah! had you stayed, such things had been!
But Fate, unheeding human scheming,
    Serenely reckless came between -
Fate with her cold eyes hard and gleaming
    Unseared by all the sorrow seen.

Ah! well-beloved, I never told you,
    I did...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Feroke

The rice-birds fly so white, so silver white,
The velvet rice-flats lie so emerald green,
My heart inhales, with sorrowful delight,
The sweet and poignant sadness of the scene.

The swollen tawny river seeks the sea,
Its hungry waters, never satisfied,
Beflecked with fallen log and torn-up tree,
Engulph the fisher-huts on either side.

The current brought a stranger yesterday,
And laid him on the sand beneath a palm,
His worn young face was partly torn away,
His eyes, that saw the world no more, were calm

We could not close his eyelids, stiff with blood, -
But, oh, my brother, I had changed with thee
For I am still tormented in the flood,
Whilst thou hast done thy work, and reached the sea.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

Feroza

The evening sky was as green as Jade,
    As Emerald turf by Lotus lake,
Behind the Kafila far she strayed,
    (The Pearls are lost if the Necklace break!)

A lingering freshness touched the air
    From palm-trees, clustered around a Spring,
The great, grim Desert lay vast and bare,
    But Youth is ever a careless thing.

The Raiders threw her upon the sand,
    Men of the Wilderness know no laws,
They tore the Amethysts off her hand,
    And rent the folds of her veiling gauze.

They struck the lips that they might have kissed,
    Pitiless they to her pain and fear,
And wrenched the gold from her broken wrist,
    No use to cry; there were none to hear.

Her scarlet mouth and her onyx eyes,
    Her braided hair in its silken sheen...

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

From Behind the Lattice

I see your red-gold hair and know
How white the hidden skin must be,
Though sun-kissed face and fingers show
The fervour of the noon-day glow,
The keenness of the sea.

My longing fancies ebb and flow,
Still circling constant unto this;
My great desire (ah, whisper low)
To plant on thy forbidden snow
The rosebud of a kiss.

The scarlet flower would spread and grow,
Your whiteness change and flush,
Be still, my reckless heart, beat slow,
'T is but a dream that stirs thee so!)
To one transparent blush.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

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