David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

121. Whales Weep Not! 7/8/2009
122. Willy Wet-Leg 1/1/2004
123. Worm Either Way 1/1/2004
Best Poem of David Herbert Lawrence

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.

Read the full of Self-Pity

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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