David Herbert Lawrence

[D.H. Lawrence] (11 September 1885 – 2 March 1930 / Nottinghamshire / England)

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

1. A Baby Asleep After Pain 1/1/2004
2. A Baby Running Barefoot 1/1/2004
3. A Love Song 1/1/2004
4. A Passing Bell 1/1/2004
5. A Sane Revolution 1/1/2004
6. A Spiritual Woman 1/1/2004
7. A Winter's Tale 1/1/2004
8. A Youth Mowing 1/1/2004
9. After Many Days 1/1/2004
10. Afternoon In School The Last Lesson 11/26/2014
11. Anxiety 1/1/2004
12. At The Window 1/1/2004
13. Autumn Sunshine 5/6/2015
14. Baby Tortoise 7/8/2009
15. Ballad Of Another Ophelia 1/1/2004
16. Bat 7/8/2009
17. Bavarian Gentians 1/1/2004
18. Beautiful Old Age 1/1/2004
19. Bei Hennef 11/15/2004
20. Belief 1/1/2004
21. Birdcage Walk 1/1/2004
22. Blue 1/1/2004
23. Brooding Grief 1/1/2004
24. Brother And Sister 7/8/2009
25. Butterfly 1/1/2004
26. Conceit 1/1/2004
27. Conundrums 1/1/2004
28. Craving For Spring 1/1/2004
29. Cruelty And Love 1/1/2004
30. Discipline 1/1/2004
31. Discord In Childhood 1/1/2004
32. Dissolute 1/1/2004
33. Dolor Of Autumn 1/1/2004
34. Dreams 1/1/2004
35. Dreams Nascent 1/1/2004
36. Dreams Old 1/1/2004
37. Drunk 1/1/2004
38. Elegy 1/1/2004
39. Epilogue 1/1/2004
40. Excursion 1/1/2004
Best Poem of David Herbert Lawrence

A Winter's Tale

Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow,
And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge;
Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go
On towards the pines at the hills’ white verge.

I cannot see her, since the mist’s white scarf
Obscures the dark wood and the dull orange sky;
But she’s waiting, I know, impatient and cold, half
Sobs struggling into her frosty sigh.

Why does she come so promptly, when she must know
That she’s only the nearer to the inevitable farewell;
The hill is steep, on the snow my steps are slow— ...

Read the full of A Winter's Tale

After Many Days

I wonder if with you, as it is with me,
If under your slipping words, that easily flow
About you as a garment, easily,
Your violent heart beats to and fro!

Long have I waited, never once confessed,
Even to myself, how bitter the separation;
Now, being come again, how make the best
Reparation?

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