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

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of Moloch in the blood-jets of your throat. Come, you shall have your desire, since already I am implicated with you in your strange lust.

      Paradise Re-entered

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      THROUGH the strait gate of passion,

       Between the bickering fire

       Where flames of fierce love tremble

       On the body of fierce desire:

       To the intoxication,

       The mind, fused down like a bead,

       Flees in its agitation

       The flames' stiff speed:

       At last to calm incandescence,

       Burned clean by remorseless hate,

       Now, at the day's renascence

       We approach the gate.

       Now, from the darkened spaces

       Of fear, and of frightened faces,

       Death, in our awful embraces

       Approached and passed by;

       We near the flame-burnt porches

       Where the brands of the angels, like torches

       Whirl,—in these perilous marches

       Pausing to sigh;

       We look back on the withering roses,

       The stars, in their sun-dimmed closes,

       Where 'twas given us to repose us

       Sure on our sanctity;

       Beautiful, candid lovers,

       Burnt out of our earthy covers,

       We might have nestled like plovers

       In the fields of eternity.

       There, sure in sinless being,

       All-seen, and then all-seeing,

       In us life unto death agreeing,

       We might have lain.

       But we storm the angel-guarded

       Gates of the long-discarded,

       Garden, which God has hoarded

       Against our pain.

       The Lord of Hosts, and the Devil

       Are left on Eternity's level

       Field, and as victors we travel

       To Eden home.

       Back beyond good and evil

       Return we. Eve dishevel

       Your hair for the bliss-drenched revel

       On our primal loam.

      Spring Morning

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      AH, through the open door

       Is there an almond tree

       Aflame with blossom!

       —Let us fight no more.

       Among the pink and blue

       Of the sky and the almond flowers

       A sparrow flutters.

       —We have come through,

       It is really spring!—See,

       When he thinks himself alone

       How he bullies the flowers.

       —Ah, you and me

       How happy we'll be!—See him

       He clouts the tufts of flowers

       In his impudence.

       —But, did you dream

       It would be so bitter? Never mind

       It is finished, the spring is here.

       And we're going to be summer-happy

       And summer-kind.

       We have died, we have slain and been slain,

       We are not our old selves any more.

       I feel new and eager

       To start again.

       It is gorgeous to live and forget.

       And to feel quite new.

       See the bird in the flowers?—he's making

       A rare to-do!

       He thinks the whole blue sky

       Is much less than the bit of blue egg

       He's got in his nest—we'll be happy

       You and I, I and you.

       With nothing to fight any more—

       In each other, at least.

       See, how gorgeous the world is

       Outside the door!

       SAN GAUDENZIO

      Wedlock

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      I COME, my little one, closer up against me, Creep right up, with your round head pushed in my breast. How I love all of you! Do you feel me wrap you Up with myself and my warmth, like a flame round the wick? And how I am not at all, except a flame that mounts off you. Where I touch you, I flame into being;—but is it me, or you? That round head pushed in my chest, like a nut in its socket, And I the swift bracts that sheathe it: those breasts, those thighs and knees, Those shoulders so warm and smooth: I feel that I Am a sunlight upon them, that shines them into being. But how lovely to be you! Creep closer in, that I am more. I spread over you! How lovely, your round head, your arms, Your breasts, your knees and feet! I feel that we Are a bonfire of oneness, me flame flung leaping round you, You the core of the fire, crept into me. II AND oh, my little one, you whom I enfold, How quaveringly I depend on you, to keep me alive, Like a flame on a wick! I, the man who enfolds you and holds you close, How my soul cleaves to your bosom as I clasp you, The very quick of my being! Suppose you didn't want me! I should sink down Like a light that has no sustenance And sinks low. Cherish me, my tiny one, cherish me who enfold you. Nourish me, and endue me, I am only of you, I am your issue. How full and big like a robust, happy flame When I enfold you, and you creep into me, And my life is fierce at its quick Where it comes off you! III MY little one, my big one, My bird, my brown sparrow in my breast. My squirrel clutching in to me; My pigeon, my little one, so warm So close, breathing so still. My little one, my big one, I, who am so fierce and strong, enfolding you, If you start away from my breast, and leave me, How suddenly I shall go down into nothing Like a flame that falls of a sudden. And you will be before me, tall and towering, And I shall be wavering uncertain Like a sunken flame that grasps for support. IV BUT now I am full and strong and certain With you there firm at the core of me Keeping me. How sure I feel, how warm and strong and happy For the future! How sure the future is within me; I am like a seed with a perfect flower enclosed. I wonder what it will be, What will come forth of us. What flower, my love? No matter, I am so happy, I feel like a firm, rich, healthy root, Rejoicing in what is to come. How I depend on you utterly My little one, my big one! How everything that will be, will not be of me, Nor of either of us, But of both of us. V AND think, there will something come forth from us. We two, folded so small

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