The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence - D. H. Lawrence

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abate you

       Somehow?—so sad, so intrinsic, so spiritual, yet so

       cautious, you

       Must have me all in your will and your consciousness—

       I hate you.

      Mating

       Table of Contents

      Round clouds roll in the arms of the wind,

       The round earth rolls in a clasp of blue sky,

       And see, where the budding hazels are thinned,

       The wild anemones lie

       In undulating shivers beneath the wind.

       Over the blue of the waters ply

       White ducks, a living flotilla of cloud;

       And, look you, floating just thereby,

       The blue-gleamed drake stems proud

       Like Abraham, whose seed should multiply.

       In the lustrous gleam of the water, there

       Scramble seven toads across the silk, obscure leaves,

       Seven toads that meet in the dusk to share

       The darkness that interweaves

       The sky and earth and water and live things everywhere.

       Look now, through the woods where the beech-green

       spurts

       Like a storm of emerald snow, look, see

       A great bay stallion dances, skirts

       The bushes sumptuously,

       Going outward now in the spring to his brief deserts.

       Ah love, with your rich, warm face aglow,

       What sudden expectation opens you

       So wide as you watch the catkins blow

       Their dust from the birch on the blue

       Lift of the pulsing wind—ah, tell me you know!

       Ah, surely! Ah, sure from the golden sun

       A quickening, masculine gleam floats in to all

       Us creatures, people and flowers undone,

       Lying open under his thrall,

       As he begets the year in us. What, then, would you

       shun?

       Why, I should think that from the earth there fly

       Fine thrills to the neighbour stars, fine yellow beams

       Thrown lustily off from our full-blown, high

       Bursting globe of dreams,

       To quicken the spheres that are virgin still in the sky.

       Do you not hear each morsel thrill

       With joy at travelling to plant itself within

       The expectant one, therein to instil

       New rapture, new shape to win,

       From the thick of life wake up another will?

       Surely, and if that I would spill

       The vivid, ah, the fiery surplus of life,

       From off my brimming measure, to fill

       You, and flush you rife

       With increase, do you call it evil, and always evil?

      A Love Song

       Table of Contents

      Reject me not if I should say to you

       I do forget the sounding of your voice,

       I do forget your eyes that searching through

       The mists perceive our marriage, and rejoice.

       Yet, when the apple-blossom opens wide

       Under the pallid moonlight's fingering,

       I see your blanched face at my breast, and hide

       My eyes from diligent work, malingering.

       Ah, then, upon my bedroom I do draw

       The blind to hide the garden, where the moon

       Enjoys the open blossoms as they straw

       Their beauty for his taking, boon for boon.

       And I do lift my aching arms to you,

       And I do lift my anguished, avid breast,

       And I do weep for very pain of you,

       And fling myself at the doors of sleep, for rest.

       And I do toss through the troubled night for you,

       Dreaming your yielded mouth is given to mine,

       Feeling your strong breast carry me on into

       The peace where sleep is stronger even than wine.

      Brother and Sister

       Table of Contents

      The shorn moon trembling indistinct on her path,

       Frail as a scar upon the pale blue sky,

       Draws towards the downward slope; some sorrow

       hath

       Worn her down to the quick, so she faintly fares

       Along her foot-searched way without knowing why

       She creeps persistent down the sky's long stairs.

       Some say they see, though I have never seen,

       The dead moon heaped within the new moon's arms;

       For surely the fragile, fine young thing had been

       Too heavily burdened to mount the heavens so.

       But my heart stands still, as a new, strong dread

       alarms

       Me; might a young girl be heaped with such shadow

       of woe?

       Since Death from the mother moon has pared us

       down to the quick,

       And cast us forth like shorn, thin moons, to travel

       An uncharted way among the myriad thick

       Strewn stars of silent people, and luminous litter

       Of lives which sorrows like mischievous dark mice

       chavel

       To nought, diminishing each star's glitter,

       Since Death has delivered us utterly, naked and

       white,

       Since the month of childhood is over, and we stand

       alone,

       Since the beloved, faded moon that set us alight

       Is delivered from us and pays no heed though we

       moan

       In sorrow, since we stand in bewilderment, strange

       And fearful to sally forth down the sky's long range.

       We may not cry to her still to sustain us here,

       We may not hold her shadow back from the dark.

       Oh, let us here forget, let us take the sheer

      

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