Adela Florence Nicolson (née Cory) (9 April 1865-4 October 1904) was an English poet who wrote under the pseudonym Laurence Hope.
She was born on 9 April 1865 at Stoke Bishop, Gloucestershire, the second of three daughters to Colonel Arthur Cory and Fanny Elizabeth Griffin. Her father was employed in the British army at Lahore, and thus she was raised by her relatives back in England. ... more »
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Laurence Hope Poems
The Teak Forest
Whether I loved you who shall say? Whether I drifted down your way In the endless River of Chance and Change, And you woke the strange
Who does not feel desire unending To solace through his daily strife, With some mysterious Mental Blending, The hungry loneliness of life?
In The Early, Pearly Morning
Song by Valgovind The fields are full of Poppies, and the skies are very blue, By the Temple in the coppice, I wait, Beloved, for you.
Do you ever think of me? you who died Ere our Youth's first fervour chilled, With your soft eyes and your pulses stilled
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
The Jungle Flower
Ah, the cool silence of the shaded hours, The scent and colour of the jungle flowers!
Till I Wake
When I am dying, lean over me tenderly, softly, Stoop, as the yellow roses droop in the wind from the South.
Two Songs By Sitara, Of Kashmir
Beloved! your hair was golden As tender tints of sunrise, As corn beside the River
How I loved you in your sleep, With the starlight on your hair! The touch of your lips was sweet,
Give me your self one hour; I do not crave For any love, or even thought, of me. Come, as a Sultan may caress a slave
Reverie Ofmahomed Akram At The Tamarind ...
The Desert is parched in the burning sun And the grass is scorched and white. But the sand is passed, and the march is done,
Out I came from the dancing-place: The night-wind met me face to face-- A wind off the harbour, cold and keen,
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.
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.
Comments about Laurence Hope
The Teak Forest
Whether I loved you who shall say?
Whether I drifted down your way
In the endless River of Chance and Change,
And you woke the strange
Unknown longings that have no names,
But burn us all in their hidden flames,
Who shall say?
Life is a strange and a wayward thing:
We heard the bells of the Temples ring,
The married children, in passing, sing.
The month of marriage, the month of spring,
Was full of the breath of sunburnt flowers
That bloom in a fiercer light than ours,
And, under a sky more fiercely blue,
I came to you!
You told me tales of ...