Bei Hennef (David Herbert Lawrence Poems)
The little river twittering in the twilght,The wan, wandering look of the pale sky.This is almost bliss.And everything shut up ...
The little river twittering in the twilght,The wan, wandering look of the pale sky.This is almost bliss.And everything shut up ...
Too far away, oh love, I know, To save me from this haunted road, Whose lofty roses break and blow ...
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of ...
It is stormy, and raindrops cling like silver bees to the pane, The thin sycamores in the playground are swinging ...
You know what it is to be born alone, Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet little by ...
I listen to the stillness of you, My dear, among it all; I feel your silence touch my words as ...
Many years have I still to burn, detained Like a candle flame on this body; but I enshine A darkness ...
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night, Hold my hand to catch the ...
A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table A fine proud spike ...
Outside the house an ash-tree hung its terrible whips, And at night when the wind arose, the lash of the ...
Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June-hot woman Will enter and shut the door to stay. And when your ...
The acrid scents of autumn, Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn And the snore ...
The darkness steals the forms of all the queens, But oh, the palms of his two black hands are red, ...
A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight, Star-spiders spinning their thread Hang high suspended, withouten respite Watching ...
I wonder, can the night go by; Can this shot arrow of travel fly Shaft-golden with light, sheer into the ...
When you went, how was it you carried with you My missal book of fine, flamboyant hours? My book of ...
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door, And I lingered on the threshold with my hand Upraised ...
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk ...
The five old bells Are hurrying and eagerly calling, Imploring, protesting They know, but clamorously falling Into gabbling incoherence, never ...
At evening, sitting on this terrace, When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara Departs, ...
I thought he was dumb, said he was dumb, Yet I've heard him cry. First faint scream, Out of life's ...
The earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over The edge of the blue, and the ...
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