David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

41. Firelight And Nightfall 1/1/2004
42. Giorno Dei Morti 1/1/2004
43. Gloire De Dijon 1/1/2004
44. Green 1/1/2004
45. Grey Evening 1/1/2004
46. How Beastly The Bourgeois Is 7/8/2009
47. Humming-Bird 5/21/2015
48. If You Are A Man 1/1/2004
49. In A Boat 1/1/2004
50. In Trouble And Shame 7/8/2009
51. Intimates 1/1/2004
52. Irony 1/1/2004
53. Kangaroo 1/1/2004
54. Last Words To Miriam 1/1/2004
55. Liaison 1/1/2004
56. Lies About Love 1/1/2004
57. Listening 1/1/2004
58. Lotus Hurt By The Cold 1/1/2004
59. Lui Et Elle 7/8/2009
60. Malade 1/1/2004
61. Mating 1/1/2004
62. Meeting Among The Mountains 1/1/2004
63. Monologue Of A Mother 1/1/2004
64. Mystery 1/1/2004
65. New Year's Eve 1/1/2004
66. Nostalgia 7/28/2015
67. Nothing To Save 7/8/2009
68. Patience 1/1/2004
69. Perfidy 1/1/2004
70. Piano 7/8/2009
71. Reproach 1/1/2004
72. Restlessness 1/1/2004
73. Scent Of Irises 1/1/2004
74. Search For Truth 1/1/2004
75. Self-Pity 1/1/2004
76. Service Of All The Dead 1/1/2004
77. Sickness 4/25/2015
78. Silence 1/1/2004
79. Snake 7/8/2009
80. Snap-Dragon 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

Self-Pity

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

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