David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

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