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 English are So Nice! -new- 7/28/2015
6. Nostalgia -new- 7/28/2015
7. The Mosquito 7/21/2015
8. Trust 1/22/2015
9. Afternoon In School The Last Lesson 11/26/2014
10. Tortoise Family Connections 7/8/2009
11. Tortoise Gallantry 7/8/2009
12. Liaison 1/1/2004
13. The Hands Of The Betrothed 1/1/2004
14. Lotus Hurt By The Cold 1/1/2004
15. In Trouble And Shame 7/8/2009
16. Lui Et Elle 7/8/2009
17. How Beastly The Bourgeois Is 7/8/2009
18. Tortoise Shell 7/8/2009
19. Malade 1/1/2004
20. Study 1/1/2004
21. The Gods! The Gods! 7/8/2009
22. Giorno Dei Morti 1/1/2004
23. Submergence 1/1/2004
24. Scent Of Irises 1/1/2004
25. Dreams Nascent 1/1/2004
26. Trees In The Garden 7/8/2009
27. Nothing To Save 7/8/2009
28. Tortoise Shout 7/8/2009
29. Reproach 1/1/2004
30. Snap-Dragon 1/1/2004
31. The Inheritance 1/1/2004
32. Listening 1/1/2004
33. In A Boat 1/1/2004
34. Mating 1/1/2004
35. The Enkindled Spring 1/1/2004
36. Excursion 1/1/2004
37. Epilogue 1/1/2004
38. The Prophet 1/1/2004
39. Mystery 1/1/2004
40. The Elephant Is Slow To Mate 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

After Many Days

I wonder if with you, as it is with me,
If under your slipping words, that easily flow
About you as a garment, easily,
Your violent heart beats to and fro!

Long have I waited, never once confessed,
Even to myself, how bitter the separation;
Now, being come again, how make the best
Reparation?

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