David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

81. Study 1/1/2004
82. Submergence 1/1/2004
83. Tease 1/1/2004
84. The Bride 1/1/2004
85. The Deepest Sensuality 1/1/2004
86. The Elephant Is Slow To Mate 7/8/2009
87. The End 1/1/2004
88. The Enkindled Spring 1/1/2004
89. The Gods! The Gods! 7/8/2009
90. The Hands Of The Betrothed 1/1/2004
91. The Inheritance 1/1/2004
92. The Mystic Blue 1/1/2004
93. The Prophet 1/1/2004
94. The Punisher 1/1/2004
95. The Revolutionary 1/1/2004
96. The Ship Of Death 1/1/2004
97. The Song Of A Man Who Has Come Through 1/1/2004
98. The Virgin Mother 1/1/2004
99. The Wild Common 1/1/2004
100. Thought 1/1/2004
101. To Women As Far As I'M Concerned 1/1/2004
102. Tortoise Family Connections 7/8/2009
103. Tortoise Gallantry 7/8/2009
104. Tortoise Shell 7/8/2009
105. Tortoise Shout 7/8/2009
106. Trees In The Garden 7/8/2009
107. Troth With The Dead 1/1/2004
108. Trust 1/22/2015
109. Turkey-Cock -new- 5/21/2015
110. Virgin Youth 1/1/2004
111. We Are Transmitters 1/1/2004
112. Week-Night Service 1/1/2004
113. Whales Weep Not! 7/8/2009
114. Willy Wet-Leg 1/1/2004
115. Worm Either Way 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

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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