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. Hibiscus And Salvia Flowers 4/5/2016
47. How Beastly The Bourgeois Is 7/8/2009
48. Humming-Bird 5/21/2015
49. If You Are A Man 1/1/2004
50. In A Boat 1/1/2004
51. In Trouble And Shame 7/8/2009
52. Intimates 1/1/2004
53. Irony 1/1/2004
54. Kangaroo 1/1/2004
55. Last Words To Miriam 1/1/2004
56. Liaison 1/1/2004
57. Lies About Love 1/1/2004
58. Listening 1/1/2004
59. Lotus Hurt By The Cold 1/1/2004
60. Lui Et Elle 7/8/2009
61. Malade 1/1/2004
62. Mating 1/1/2004
63. Meeting Among The Mountains 1/1/2004
64. Monologue Of A Mother 1/1/2004
65. Mystery 1/1/2004
66. New Year's Eve 1/1/2004
67. New Year's Night 12/10/2015
68. Nostalgia 7/28/2015
69. Nothing To Save 7/8/2009
70. Patience 1/1/2004
71. Perfidy 1/1/2004
72. Piano 7/8/2009
73. Reproach 1/1/2004
74. Restlessness 1/1/2004
75. Scent Of Irises 1/1/2004
76. Search For Truth 1/1/2004
77. Self-Pity 1/1/2004
78. Service Of All The Dead 1/1/2004
79. Sickness 4/25/2015
80. Silence 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

Dissolute

Many years have I still to burn, detained
Like a candle flame on this body; but I enshine
A darkness within me, a presence which sleeps contained
In my flame of living, her soul enfolded in mine.

And through these years, while I burn on the fuel of life,
What matter the stuff I lick up in my living flame,
Seeing I keep in the fire-core, inviolate,
A night where she dreams my dreams for me, ever the same.

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