A Winter's Tale Poem by David Herbert Lawrence

A Winter's Tale

Rating: 3.1


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—
Why does she come, when she knows what I have to tell?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 02 January 2015

Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.

1 1 Reply

Magnificent poem and very hearty to read it.

4 0 Reply
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David Herbert Lawrence

David Herbert Lawrence

Nottinghamshire / England
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