David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

81. Silence 1/1/2004
82. Snake 7/8/2009
83. Snap-Dragon 1/1/2004
84. Sorrow 1/1/2004
85. Study 1/1/2004
86. Submergence 1/1/2004
87. Tease 1/1/2004
88. The American eagle 8/29/2016
89. The Bride 1/1/2004
90. The Deepest Sensuality 1/1/2004
91. The Elephant Is Slow To Mate 7/8/2009
92. The End 1/1/2004
93. The English are So Nice! 7/28/2015
94. The Enkindled Spring 1/1/2004
95. The Gods! The Gods! 7/8/2009
96. The Hands Of The Betrothed 1/1/2004
97. The Inheritance 1/1/2004
98. The Mosquito 7/21/2015
99. The Mystic Blue 1/1/2004
100. The Prophet 1/1/2004
101. The Punisher 1/1/2004
102. The Revolutionary 1/1/2004
103. The Ship Of Death 1/1/2004
104. The Song Of A Man Who Has Come Through 1/1/2004
105. The Virgin Mother 1/1/2004
106. The White Horse 1/8/2016
107. The Wild Common 1/1/2004
108. Thought 1/1/2004
109. To Women As Far As I'M Concerned 1/1/2004
110. Tortoise Family Connections 7/8/2009
111. Tortoise Gallantry 7/8/2009
112. Tortoise Shell 7/8/2009
113. Tortoise Shout 7/8/2009
114. Trees In The Garden 7/8/2009
115. Troth With The Dead 1/1/2004
116. Trust 1/22/2015
117. Turkey-Cock 5/21/2015
118. Virgin Youth 1/1/2004
119. We Are Transmitters 1/1/2004
120. Week-Night Service 1/1/2004
Best Poem of David Herbert Lawrence

Beautiful Old Age

It ought to be lovely to be old
to be full of the peace that comes of experience
and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.

The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life
lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies
they would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins
in their old age.

Soothing, old people should be, like apples
when one is tired of love.
Fragrant like yellowing leaves, and dim with the soft
stillness and satisfaction of autumn.

And a girl should say:
It must be wonderful to live and grow old.
Look at my mother, how rich ...

Read the full of Beautiful Old Age

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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