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    Love Poems and Others
    Love Poems and Others
    Love Poems and Others
    Ebook79 pages39 minutes

    Love Poems and Others

    By D.H. Lawrence

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Although best known for his novels, Lawrence wrote almost 800 poems, most of them relatively short. His first poems were written in 1904 and two of his poems, "Dreams Old" and "Dreams Nascent", were among his earliest published works in The English Review. It has been claimed that his early works clearly place him in the school of Georgian poets, and indeed some of his poems appear in the Georgian Poetry anthologies. However, James Reeves in his book on Georgian Poetry, notes that Lawrence was never really a Georgian poet. Indeed, later critics contrast Lawrence's energy and dynamism with the complacency of Georgian poetry.


    CrossReach Publications

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCrossReach Publications
    Release dateMar 25, 2019
    Love Poems and Others
    Author

    D.H. Lawrence

    David Herbert (D. H.) Lawrence was a prolific English novelist, essayist, poet, playwright, literary critic and painter. His most notable works include Lady Chatterley’s Lover, The Rainbow, Sons and Lovers and Women in Love.

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      Book preview

      Love Poems and Others - D.H. Lawrence

      WEDDING MORN

      The morning breaks like a pomegranate

      Ah, when to-morrow the dawn comes late

      It will find me watching at the marriage gate

      On him who is sleeping satiate,

      And when the dawn comes creeping in,

      Myself to watch the morning win

      As it shows him sleeping a sleep he got

      He grows distinct, and I see his hot

      Then I shall know which image of God

      And I shall know my bitter rod

      And I shall know the stamp and worth

      Shall see an image of heaven or of earth

      Yea and I long to see him sleep

      I long to know what I have to keep,

      My love, that spinning coin, laid still

      For me to count—for I know he will

      And then he will be mine, he will lie

      Opening his value plain to my eye

      He will lie negligent, resign

      Shall watch the dawn light up for me

      And I shall watch the wan light shine

      On his brow where the wisps of fond hair twine

      On his lips where the light breaths come and go

      On his limbs that I shall weep to know

      KISSES IN THE TRAIN

      I saw the midlands

      The fields of autumn

      And sheep on the pasture

      And still as ever

      My mouth on her pulsing

      And my breast to her beating

      But my heart at the centre

      Was still as a pivot,

      On its prowling orbit

      And still in my nostrils

      And still my wet mouth

      And still one pulse

      And the world all whirling

      Like the dance of a dervish

      My sense—and my reason

      But firm at the centre

      Her own to my perfect

      Like a magnet’s keeper

      CRUELTY AND LOVE

      What large, dark hands are those at the window

      Lifted, grasping the golden light

      Which weaves its way through the creeper leaves

      Ah, only the leaves! But in the west,

      In the west I see a redness come

      Over the evening’s burning breast—

      Oh, water-hen, beside the rushes

      Hide your quaint, unfading blushes,

      Still your quick tail, and lie as dead,

      Till the distance folds over his ominous tread.

      The rabbit presses back her ears,

      Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes

      And crouches low: then with wild spring

      Spurts from the terror of his oncoming

      To be choked back, the wire ring

      Her frantic effort throttling:

      Ah soon in his large, hard hands she dies,

      And swings all loose to the swing of his walk.

      Yet calm and kindly are his eyes

      And ready to open in brown surprise

      Should I not answer to his talk

      Or should he my tears surmise.

      I hear his hand on the latch, and rise from my chair

      Watching the door open: he flashes bare

      His strong teeth in a smile, and flashes his eyes

      In a smile like triumph upon me; then careless-wise

      He flings the rabbit soft on the table board

      And comes towards me: ah, the uplifted sword

      Of his hand against my bosom, and oh, the broad

      Blade of his hand that raise my face to applaud

      His coming: he raises up my face to him

      And caresses my mouth with his fingers, which still smell grim

      Of the rabbit’s fur! God, I am caught in a snare!

      I know not what fine wire is round

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