David Herbert Lawrence

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

David Herbert Lawrence Poems

1. Autumn Sunshine 5/6/2015
2. Turkey-Cock -new- 5/21/2015
3. Humming-Bird -new- 5/21/2015
4. Sickness 4/25/2015
5. Trust 1/22/2015
6. Afternoon In School The Last Lesson 11/26/2014
7. The Gods! The Gods! 7/8/2009
8. Tortoise Family Connections 7/8/2009
9. Tortoise Gallantry 7/8/2009
10. Malade 1/1/2004
11. Study 1/1/2004
12. Liaison 1/1/2004
13. The Hands Of The Betrothed 1/1/2004
14. Nothing To Save 7/8/2009
15. Lotus Hurt By The Cold 1/1/2004
16. In Trouble And Shame 7/8/2009
17. Lui Et Elle 7/8/2009
18. Mating 1/1/2004
19. How Beastly The Bourgeois Is 7/8/2009
20. Reproach 1/1/2004
21. Tortoise Shell 7/8/2009
22. Giorno Dei Morti 1/1/2004
23. Listening 1/1/2004
24. Submergence 1/1/2004
25. Scent Of Irises 1/1/2004
26. Dreams Nascent 1/1/2004
27. Mystery 1/1/2004
28. Trees In The Garden 7/8/2009
29. Tortoise Shout 7/8/2009
30. Epilogue 1/1/2004
31. Snap-Dragon 1/1/2004
32. The Inheritance 1/1/2004
33. Grey Evening 1/1/2004
34. New Year's Eve 1/1/2004
35. Meeting Among The Mountains 1/1/2004
36. Perfidy 1/1/2004
37. In A Boat 1/1/2004
38. The Enkindled Spring 1/1/2004
39. Silence 1/1/2004
40. Excursion 1/1/2004
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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