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    Love Poems and Others
    Love Poems and Others
    Love Poems and Others
    Ebook73 pages33 minutes

    Love Poems and Others

    By D. H. Lawrence

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    About this ebook

    Lawrence was an adept poet who wrote over 800 poems during his lifetime. At the beginning of his career, his poems were infused with pathetic fallacy and continual personification of flora and fauna. Like many of the Georgian poets, Lawrence's style was overly verbose and archaic, meant as a tribute to the previous Georgian period. However, the tragedy of World War I changed Lawrence's style dramatically. (Wikipedia)
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOtbebookpublishing
    Release dateJan 11, 2019
    ISBN9783962728762
    Love Poems and Others
    Author

    D. H. Lawrence

    David Herbert Lawrence was born on 11th September 1881 in Eastwood, a small mining village in Nottinghamshire, in the English Midlands. Despite ill health as a child and a comparatively disadvantageous position in society, he became a teacher in 1908, and took up a post in a school in Croydon, south of London. His first novel, The White Peacock, was published in 1911, and from then until his death he wrote feverishly, producing poetry, novels, essays, plays travel books and short stories, while travelling around the world, settling for periods in Italy, New Mexico and Mexico. He married Frieda Weekley in 1914 and died of tuberculosis in 1930.

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      Book preview

      Love Poems and Others - D. H. Lawrence

      LAWRENCE

      LOVE POEMS

      WEDDING MORN

      The morning breaks like a pomegranate

      In a shining crack of red,

      Ah, when to-morrow the dawn comes late

      Whitening across the bed,

      It will find me watching at the marriage gate

      And waiting while light is shed

      On him who is sleeping satiate,

      With a sunk, abandoned head.

      And when the dawn comes creeping in,

      Cautiously I shall raise

      Myself to watch the morning win

      My first of days,

      As it shows him sleeping a sleep he got

      Of me, as under my gaze,

      He grows distinct, and I see his hot

      Face freed of the wavering blaze.

      Then I shall know which image of God

      My man is made toward,

      And I shall know my bitter rod

      Or my rich reward.

      And I shall know the stamp and worth

      Of the coin I’ve accepted as mine,

      Shall see an image of heaven or of earth

      On his minted metal shine.

      Yea and I long to see him sleep

      In my power utterly,

      I long to know what I have to keep,

      I long to see

      My love, that spinning coin, laid still

      And plain at the side of me,

      For me to count—for I know he will

      Greatly enrichen me.

      And then he will be mine, he will lie

      In my power utterly,

      Opening his value plain to my eye

      He will sleep of me.

      He will lie negligent, resign

      His all to me, and I

      Shall watch the dawn light up for me

      This sleeping wealth of mine.

      And I shall watch the wan light shine

      On his sleep that is filled of me,

      On his brow where the wisps of fond hair twine

      So truthfully,

      On his lips where the light breaths come and go

      Naïve and winsomely,

      On his limbs that I shall weep to know

      Lie under my mastery.

      KISSES IN THE TRAIN

      I saw the midlands

      Revolve through her hair;

      The fields of autumn

      Stretching bare,

      And sheep on the pasture

      Tossed back in a scare.

      And still as ever

      The world went round,

      My mouth on her pulsing

      Neck was found,

      And my breast to her beating

      Breast was bound.

      But my heart at the centre

      Of all, in a swound

      Was still as a pivot,

      As all the ground

      On its prowling orbit

      Shifted round.

      And still in my nostrils

      The scent of her flesh,

      And still my wet mouth

      Sought her afresh;

      And still one pulse

      Through the world did thresh.

      And the world all whirling

      Around in joy

      Like the dance of a dervish

      Did destroy

      My sense—and my reason

      Spun like a toy.

      But firm at the centre

      My heart was found;

      Her own to my perfect

      Heart-beat bound,

      Like a magnet’s keeper

      Closing the round.

      CRUELTY

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