Blue (David Herbert Lawrence Poems)
The earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over The edge of the blue, and the ...
The earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over The edge of the blue, and the ...
Oh the green glimmer of apples in the orchard, Lamps in a wash of rain! Oh the wet walk of ...
My little love, my darling, You were a doorway to me; You let me out of the confines Into this ...
Since you did depart Out of my reach, my darling, Into the hidden, I see each shadow start With recognition, ...
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk ...
A yellow leaf from the darkness Hops like a frog before me. Why should I start and stand still? I ...
When she rises in the morning I linger to watch her; She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window And the ...
How many times, like lotus lilies risen Upon the surface of a river, there Have risen floating on my blood ...
Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; Yea, and her mouth's prudent ...
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun, The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black birds ...
Now and again All my body springs alive, And the life that is polarised in my eyes, That quivers between ...
A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table A fine proud spike ...
Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June-hot woman Will enter and shut the door to stay. And when your ...
When you went, how was it you carried with you My missal book of fine, flamboyant hours? My book of ...
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic-looking, as if domesticity had driven her to it. Though ...
When the wind blows her veil And uncovers her laughter I cease, I turn pale. When the wind blows her ...
I have fetched the tears up out of the little wells, Scooped them up with small, iron words, Dripping over ...
She bade me follow to her garden where The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup Between the old grey ...
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door, And I lingered on the threshold with my hand Upraised ...
Ah in the thunder air how still the trees are! And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent hardly ...
Don't you care for my love? she said bitterly. I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions ...
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff at her, No, not even sniff at her, his ...
The pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters Something which sets the black poplars ashake with ...
The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window The tassel of the blind swings ...
If you make a revolution, make it for fun, don't make it in ghastly seriousness, don't do it in deadly ...
This is the last of all, this is the last! I must hold my hands, and turn my face to ...
I wish it were spring in the world. Let it be spring! Come, bubbling, surging tide of sap! Come, rush ...
The acrid scents of autumn, Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn And the snore ...
The five old bells Are hurrying and eagerly calling, Imploring, protesting They know, but clamorously falling Into gabbling incoherence, never ...
Forever nameless Forever unknwon Forever unconceived Forever unrepresented yet forever felt in the soul. (David Herbert Lawrence)
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