D. H. Lawrence
New Poems
Published by Good Press, 2022
goodpress@okpublishing.info
EAN 4057664655264
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APPREHENSION
COMING AWAKE
FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW
FLAPPER
BIRDCAGE WALK
LETTER FROM TOWN: THE
ALMOND TREE
FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE
MORNING
THIEF IN THE NIGHT
LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A
GREY EVENING IN MARCH
SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY
HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE
THE WAR
GIPSY
TWO-FOLD
UNDER THE OAK
SIGH NO MORE
LOVE STORM
PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE
EVENING
PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT
TARANTELLA
IN CHURCH
PIANO
EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
BEFORE THE WAR
PHANTASMAGORIA
NEXT MORNING
PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT
EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
BEFORE THE WAR
WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD
SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS
SICKNESS
EVERLASTING FLOWERS
THE NORTH COUNTRY
BITTERNESS OF DEATH
II
III
SEVEN SEALS
READING A LETTER
TWENTY YEARS AGO
INTIME
TWO WIVES
II
III
IV
HEIMWEH
DEBACLE
NARCISSUS
AUTUMN SUNSHINE
ON THAT DAY
APPREHENSION
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AND all hours long, the town
Roars like a beast in a cave
That is wounded there
And like to drown;
While days rush, wave after wave
On its lair.
An invisible woe unseals
The flood, so it passes beyond
All bounds: the great old city
Recumbent roars as it feels
The foamy paw of the pond
Reach from immensity.
But all that it can do
Now, as the tide rises,
Is to listen and hear the grim
Waves crash like thunder through
The splintered streets, hear noises
Roll hollow in the interim.
COMING AWAKE
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WHEN I woke, the lake-lights were quivering on the
wall,
The sunshine swam in a shoal across and across,
And a hairy, big bee hung over the primulas
In the window, his body black fur, and the sound
of him cross.
There was something I ought to remember: and
yet
I did not remember. Why should I? The run-
ning lights
And the airy primulas, oblivious
Of the impending bee—they were fair enough
sights.
FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW
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THE glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping,
Goes trembling past me up the College wall.
Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping,
The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall.
Beyond the leaves that overhang the street,
Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white,
Passes the world with shadows at their feet
Going left and right.
Remote, although I hear the beggar's cough,
See the woman's twinkling fingers tend him a
coin,
I sit absolved, assured I am better off
Beyond a world I never want to join.
FLAPPER
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LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart
As a field-bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.
Mischief has come in her dawning eyes,
And a glint of coloured iris brings
Such as lies along the folded wings
Of the bee before he flies.
Who, with a ruffling, careful breath,
Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite?
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight
In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth?
Love makes the burden of her voice.
The hum of his heavy, staggering wings
Sets quivering with wisdom the common
things
That she says, and her words rejoice.
BIRDCAGE WALK
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WHEN the wind blows her veil
And uncovers her laughter
I cease, I turn pale.
When the wind blows her veil
From the woes I bewail
Of love and hereafter:
When the wind blows her veil
I cease, I turn pale.
LETTER FROM TOWN: THE
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ALMOND TREE
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