David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

1. Sickness 4/25/2015
2. Autumn Sunshine 5/6/2015
3. Turkey-Cock 5/21/2015
4. Humming-Bird 5/21/2015
5. The White Horse 1/8/2016
6. Hibiscus And Salvia Flowers 4/5/2016
7. Eagle in New Mexico 8/29/2016
8. The American eagle 8/29/2016
9. The Mosquito 7/21/2015
10. New Year's Night 12/10/2015
11. The English are So Nice! 7/28/2015
12. Nostalgia 7/28/2015
13. Trust 1/22/2015
14. Afternoon In School The Last Lesson 11/26/2014
15. Tortoise Family Connections 7/8/2009
16. Tortoise Gallantry 7/8/2009
17. Study 1/1/2004
18. Liaison 1/1/2004
19. The Gods! The Gods! 7/8/2009
20. Lotus Hurt By The Cold 1/1/2004
21. In Trouble And Shame 7/8/2009
22. How Beastly The Bourgeois Is 7/8/2009
23. Tortoise Shell 7/8/2009
24. Submergence 1/1/2004
25. Scent Of Irises 1/1/2004
26. Reproach 1/1/2004
27. Giorno Dei Morti 1/1/2004
28. Dreams Nascent 1/1/2004
29. Trees In The Garden 7/8/2009
30. Malade 1/1/2004
31. The Hands Of The Betrothed 1/1/2004
32. Tortoise Shout 7/8/2009
33. Mating 1/1/2004
34. Epilogue 1/1/2004
35. Snap-Dragon 1/1/2004
36. The Inheritance 1/1/2004
37. Grey Evening 1/1/2004
38. Perfidy 1/1/2004
39. In A Boat 1/1/2004
40. Lui Et Elle 7/8/2009
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

Irony

Always, sweetheart,
Carry into your room the blossoming boughs of cherry,
Almond and apple and pear diffuse with light, that very
Soon strews itself on the floor; and keep the radiance of spring
Fresh quivering; keep the sunny-swift March-days waiting
In a little throng at your door, and admit the one who is plaiting
Her hair for womanhood, and play awhile with her, then bid her depart.

A come and go of March-day loves

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