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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: New Poems
+
+Author: D. H. Lawrence
+
+Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lewis Jones
+
+
+
+
+
+D.H. Lawrence (1918) _New Poems_
+
+
+
+NEW POEMS
+
+
+
+POEMS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+   LOVE POEMS AND OTHERS
+   AMORES
+   LOOK, WE HAVE COME THROUGH
+
+
+
+FIRST PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1918
+NEW EDITION (RESET), AUGUST, 1919
+
+
+
+New Poems
+
+By D. H. Lawrence
+
+
+
+London: Martin Seeker
+
+
+
+TO
+AMY LOWELL
+
+
+
+THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH, ENGLAND
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+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: Clerks
+Gipsy
+Two-Fold
+Under the Oak
+Sigh no More
+Love Storm
+Parliament Hill in the Evening
+Piccadilly Circus at Night: Street Walkers
+Tarantella
+In Church
+Piano
+Embankment at Night: Charity
+Phantasmagoria
+Next Morning
+Palimpsest of Twilight
+Embankment at Night: Outcasts
+Winter in the Boulevard
+School on the Outskirts
+Sickness
+Everlasting Flowers
+The North Country
+Bitterness of Death
+Seven Seals
+Reading a Letter
+Twenty Years Ago
+Intime
+Two Wives
+Heimweh
+Débâcle
+Narcissus
+Autumn Sunshine
+On That Day
+
+
+
+APPREHENSION
+
+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
+
+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
+
+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
+
+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
+
+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
+ALMOND TREE
+
+YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you
+     forget?
+  White ones and blue ones from under the orchard
+     hedge?
+  Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a
+     pledge
+Of our early love that hardly has opened yet.
+
+Here there's an almond tree--you have never seen
+  Such a one in the north--it flowers on the street,
+     and I stand
+  Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers
+     that expand
+At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean.
+
+Under the almond tree, the happy lands
+  Provence, Japan, and Italy repose,
+  And passing feet are chatter and clapping of
+     those
+Who play around us, country girls clapping their
+     hands.
+
+You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown,
+  All your unbearable tenderness, you with the
+     laughter
+  Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here-
+     after,
+You with loose hands of abandonment hanging
+     down.
+
+
+FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE
+MORNING
+
+THE new red houses spring like plants
+      In level rows
+Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants
+      Its square shadows.
+
+The pink young houses show one side bright
+      Flatly assuming the sun,
+And one side shadow, half in sight,
+      Half-hiding the pavement-run;
+
+Where hastening creatures pass intent
+      On their level way,
+Threading like ants that can never relent
+      And have nothing to say.
+
+Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand
+      At random, desolate twigs,
+To testify to a blight on the land
+      That has stripped their sprigs.
+
+
+
+THIEF IN THE NIGHT
+
+LAST night a thief came to me
+  And struck at me with something dark.
+I cried, but no one could hear me,
+  I lay dumb and stark.
+
+When I awoke this morning
+  I could find no trace;
+Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning,
+  For I've lost my peace.
+
+
+LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A
+GREY EVENING IN MARCH
+
+THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly
+     northward to you,
+While north of them all, at the farthest ends,
+     stands one bright-bosomed, aglance
+With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts,
+     red-fire seas running through
+The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt
+     as a well-shot lance.
+
+You should be out by the orchard, where violets
+     secretly darken the earth,
+Or there in the woods of the twilight, with
+     northern wind-flowers shaken astir.
+Think of me here in the library, trying and trying
+     a song that is worth
+Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour
+     will turn or deter.
+
+You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like
+     daisies white in the grass
+Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed;
+     peewits turn after the plough--
+It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the
+     road where I pass
+And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of
+     each waterless brow.
+
+Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in
+     the mesh of the budding trees,
+A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my
+     soul to hear
+The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it
+     rushes past like a breeze,
+To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting
+     the after-echo of fear.
+
+
+SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY
+
+O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not,
+  What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you,
+     and raised
+To show you thus transfigured, changed,
+  Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased?
+
+Such resolute shapes, so harshly set
+  In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped
+In void and null profusion, how is this?
+  In what strong _aqua regia_ now are you steeped?
+
+That you lose the brick-stuff out of you
+  And hover like a presentment, fading faint
+And vanquished, evaporate away
+  To leave but only the merest possible taint!
+
+
+HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE
+THE WAR
+
+_Clerks_.
+
+WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet
+    flowers of night
+Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of
+    golden light.
+
+Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come
+    aflower
+To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the
+    hour.
+
+Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our
+    fervent eyes
+And out of the chambered weariness wanders a
+    spirit abroad on its enterprise.
+
+    Not too near and not too far
+    Out of the stress of the crowd
+    Music screams as elephants scream
+    When they lift their trunks and scream aloud
+    For joy of the night when masters are
+           Asleep and adream.
+
+    So here I hide in the Shalimar
+    With a wanton princess slender and proud,
+    And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem
+    Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud
+    Of golden dust, with star after star
+           On our stream.
+
+
+GIPSY
+
+I, THE man with the red scarf,
+   Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn-
+        ings.
+Take them, and buy thee a silver ring
+   And wed me, to ease my yearnings.
+
+For the rest, when thou art wedded
+   I'll wet my brow for thee
+With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake,
+   Thou shalt shut doors on me.
+
+
+TWO-FOLD
+
+How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur
+    cleaving
+All with a flash of blue!--when will she be leaving
+Her room, where the night still hangs like a half-
+    folded bat,
+And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like
+    must in a vat.
+
+
+UNDER THE OAK
+
+You, if you were sensible,
+When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one
+   dreadful,
+You would not turn and answer me
+"The night is wonderful."
+
+Even you, if you knew
+How this darkness soaks me through and through,
+   and infuses
+Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis-
+   tinguish
+What hurts, from what amuses.
+
+For I tell you
+Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid
+Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam
+At the knife of a Druid.
+
+Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies,
+My life runs out.
+I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak,
+Gout upon gout.
+
+Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe
+In the shady smoke.
+But who are you, twittering to and fro
+Beneath the oak?
+
+What thing better are you, what worse?
+What have you to do with the mysteries
+Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse?
+What place have you in my histories?
+
+
+SIGH NO MORE
+
+THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling,
+               Calling,
+Of a meaningless monotony is palling
+All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered
+     wood.
+May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling,
+               Falling
+In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling
+Messages of true-love down the dust of the high-
+     road.
+I do not like to hear the gentle grieving,
+               Grieving
+Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing
+Love will yet again return to her and make all good.
+
+When I know that there must ever be deceiving,
+               Deceiving
+Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's
+     weaving
+Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another
+     wood.
+
+Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling,
+               Stalling
+A progress down the intricate enthralling
+By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff
+     their hood.
+
+And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving,
+               Heaving
+A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving
+A decent short regret for that which once was very
+     good.
+
+
+LOVE STORM
+
+MANY roses in the wind
+Are tapping at the window-sash.
+A hawk is in the sky; his wings
+Slowly begin to plash.
+
+The roses with the west wind rapping
+Are torn away, and a splash
+Of red goes down the billowing air.
+
+Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving
+Past him--only a wing-beat proving
+The will that holds him there.
+
+The daisies in the grass are bending,
+The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending
+All the roses, and unending
+Rustle of leaves washes out the rending
+Cry of a bird.
+
+A red rose goes on the wind.--Ascending
+The hawk his wind-swept way is wending
+Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending
+Strange white signals, seem intending
+To show the place whence the scream was heard.
+
+But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping!
+A silver wind is hastily wiping
+The face of the youngest rose.
+
+And oh, my heart, cease apprehending!
+The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping
+The window-sash as the west-wind blows.
+
+Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping,
+And fear is a plash of wings.
+What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping
+Down the bright-grey ruin of things!
+
+
+PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE
+EVENING
+
+THE houses fade in a melt of mist
+  Blotching the thick, soiled air
+With reddish places that still resist
+  The Night's slow care.
+
+The hopeless, wintry twilight fades,
+  The city corrodes out of sight
+As the body corrodes when death invades
+  That citadel of delight.
+
+Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread
+  Through the shroud of the town, as slow
+Night-lights hither and thither shed
+  Their ghastly glow.
+
+
+PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT
+
+_Street-Walkers_.
+
+WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like
+   dust above the towns,
+Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in
+   the midst of the downs,
+
+Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain
+   along the street,
+Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex-
+   pectancy to meet
+
+The luminous mist which the poor things wist was
+   dawn arriving across the sky,
+When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town
+   has driven so high.
+
+All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep,
+   All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in
+      the sea,
+Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round,
+      and keep
+   The shores of this innermost ocean alive and
+      illusory.
+
+Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning
+      looked in at their eyes
+   And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and
+      now it is we
+Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a
+      Paradise
+   On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of
+      the town-dark sea.
+
+
+TARANTELLA
+
+SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone
+And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon,
+And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and
+   the boulders.
+He sits like a shade by the flood alone
+While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the
+   croon
+Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves'
+   bright shoulders.
+
+What can I do but dance alone,
+Dance to the sliding sea and the moon,
+For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs
+   and the foam on my feet?
+For surely this earnest man has none
+Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune
+Of the waters within him; only the world's old
+   wisdom to bleat.
+
+I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the
+   glittering shingle,
+A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes
+And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss
+On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle
+To touch the sea in the last surprise
+Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss.
+
+
+IN CHURCH
+
+IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn.
+        The morning light on their lips
+Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim.
+
+Sudden outside the high window, one crow
+        Hangs in the air
+And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe.
+
+One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top
+        Of the withered tree!--in the grail
+Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop.
+
+Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway
+        In the tender wine
+Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day.
+
+
+PIANO
+
+Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
+Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
+A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the
+    tingling strings
+And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who
+    smiles as she sings.
+
+In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
+Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
+To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter
+    outside
+And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano
+    our guide.
+
+So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
+With the great black piano appassionato. The
+    glamour
+Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
+Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a
+    child for the past.
+
+
+EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+BEFORE THE WAR
+
+_Charity_.
+
+BY the river
+In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks
+    down,
+Dropping and starting from sleep
+Alone on a seat
+A woman crouches.
+
+I must go back to her.
+
+I want to give her
+Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of
+    her gown
+Asleep. My fingers creep
+Carefully over the sweet
+Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches.
+
+So, the gift!
+
+God, how she starts!
+And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand!
+And again at me!
+I turn and run
+Down the Embankment, run for my life.
+
+But why?--why?
+
+Because of my heart's
+Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand
+In the street spilled over splendidly
+With wet, flat lights. What I've done
+I know not, my soul is in strife.
+
+The touch was on the quick. I want to forget.
+
+
+PHANTASMAGORIA
+
+RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone
+Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall
+And climb the stairs to find the group of doors
+Standing angel-stern and tall.
+
+I want my own room's shelter. But what is this
+Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown
+In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees'
+Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown?
+
+Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep
+Aloud, suddenly on my mind
+Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind
+Breaks and sobs in the blind.
+
+So like to women, tall strange women weeping!
+Why continually do they cross the bed?
+Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear?
+I am listening! Is anything said?
+
+Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed;
+They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and
+    beckoning.
+Whither then, whither, what is it, say
+What is the reckoning.
+
+Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why
+Do you rush to assail me?
+Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal?
+What should it avail me?
+
+Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes
+Suburban dismal?
+Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies
+Black and phantasmal?
+
+
+NEXT MORNING
+
+How have I wandered here to this vaulted room
+In the house of life?--the floor was ruffled with gold
+Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom,
+Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight
+    unfold
+
+For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom
+Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould,
+And damp old web of misery's heirloom
+Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold.
+
+And what is this that floats on the undermist
+Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling
+Unsightly its way to the warmth?--this thing with
+    a list
+To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing?
+
+Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it
+    missed
+Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing
+Upon me!--my own reflection!--explicit gist
+Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from
+    the ceiling!
+
+Then will somebody square this shade with the
+    being I know
+I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell
+And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be
+    so?
+What is there gone against me, why am I in hell?
+
+
+PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT
+
+DARKNESS comes out of the earth
+  And swallows dip into the pallor of the west;
+From the hay comes the clamour of children's
+     mirth;
+Wanes the old palimpsest.
+
+The night-stock oozes scent,
+  And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by:
+All that the worldly day has meant
+  Wastes like a lie.
+
+The children have forsaken their play;
+  A single star in a veil of light
+Glimmers: litter of day
+  Is gone from sight.
+
+
+EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+BEFORE THE WAR
+
+_Outcasts_.
+
+THE night rain, dripping unseen,
+Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands.
+
+The river, slipping between
+Lamps, is rayed with golden bands
+Half way down its heaving sides;
+Revealed where it hides.
+
+Under the bridge
+Great electric cars
+Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing
+    along at its side.
+Far off, oh, midge after midge
+Drifts over the gulf that bars
+The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched
+    tide.
+
+At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge
+Sleep in a row the outcasts,
+Packed in a line with their heads against the wall.
+Their feet, in a broken ridge
+Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts
+A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall.
+
+Beasts that sleep will cover
+Their faces in their flank; so these
+Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep.
+Save, as the tram-cars hover
+Past with the noise of a breeze
+And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap,
+
+Two naked faces are seen
+Bare and asleep,
+Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the
+    cars.
+Foam-clots showing between
+The long, low tidal-heap,
+The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars.
+
+Over the pallor of only two faces
+Passes the gallivant beam of the trams;
+Shows in only two sad places
+The white bare bone of our shams.
+
+A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping,
+With a face like a chickweed flower.
+And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping
+Callous and dour.
+
+Over the pallor of only two places
+Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap
+Passes the light of the tram as it races
+Out of the deep.
+
+Eloquent limbs
+In disarray
+Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth
+    thighs
+Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims
+Of trousers fray
+On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies.
+
+The balls of five red toes
+As red and dirty, bare
+Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud--
+Newspaper sheets enclose
+Some limbs like parcels, and tear
+When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the
+    flood--
+
+One heaped mound
+Of a woman's knees
+As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt--
+And a curious dearth of sound
+In the presence of these
+Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any
+    hurt.
+
+Over two shadowless, shameless faces
+Stark on the heap
+Travels the light as it tilts in its paces
+Gone in one leap.
+
+At the feet of the sleepers, watching,
+Stand those that wait
+For a place to lie down; and still as they stand,
+    they sleep,
+Wearily catching
+The flood's slow gait
+Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the
+    deep.
+
+Oh, the singing mansions,
+Golden-lighted tall
+Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night!
+The bridge on its stanchions
+Stoops like a pall
+To this human blight.
+
+On the outer pavement, slowly,
+Theatre people pass,
+Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are
+    bright
+Like flowers of infernal moly
+Over nocturnal grass
+Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight.
+
+And still by the rotten
+Row of shattered feet,
+Outcasts keep guard.
+Forgotten,
+Forgetting, till fate shall delete
+One from the ward.
+
+The factories on the Surrey side
+Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky.
+The river's invisible tide
+Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye.
+
+And great gold midges
+Cross the chasm
+At the bridges
+Above intertwined plasm.
+
+
+WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD
+
+THE frost has settled down upon the trees
+And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies
+Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old
+Romantic stories now no more to be told.
+
+The trees down the boulevard stand naked in
+    thought,
+Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught
+In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront
+Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt.
+
+Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths
+    of the twigs?
+Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the
+    birch?--
+It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on
+    the sprigs,
+Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with
+    their perch.
+
+The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself.
+Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all
+Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought
+Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought.
+
+
+SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS
+
+How different, in the middle of snows, the great
+     school rises red!
+  A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round
+     with clusters of shouting lads,
+Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that
+     cling as the souls of the dead
+  In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate
+     dark monads.
+
+This new red rock in a waste of white rises against
+     the day
+  With shelter now, and with blandishment, since
+     the winds have had their way
+And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on
+     the world of mankind,
+  School now is the rock in this weary land the winter
+     burns and makes blind.
+
+
+SICKNESS
+
+WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark,
+Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the
+    bark
+Of my body slowly behind.
+
+Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night
+Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if
+    in their flight
+My hands should touch the door!
+
+What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door
+Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet,
+    before
+I can draw back!
+
+What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide
+And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone
+    down the tide
+Of eternal hereafter!
+
+Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts.
+Take them away from their venture, before fate
+    wrests
+The meaning out of them.
+
+
+EVERLASTING FLOWERS
+
+WHO do you think stands watching
+  The snow-tops shining rosy
+In heaven, now that the darkness
+  Takes all but the tallest posy?
+
+Who then sees the two-winged
+  Boat down there, all alone
+And asleep on the snow's last shadow,
+  Like a moth on a stone?
+
+The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies,
+  Have all gone dark, gone black.
+And now in the dark my soul to you
+  Turns back.
+
+To you, my little darling,
+  To you, out of Italy.
+For what is loveliness, my love,
+  Save you have it with me!
+
+So, there's an oxen wagon
+  Comes darkly into sight:
+A man with a lantern, swinging
+  A little light.
+
+What does he see, my darling
+  Here by the darkened lake?
+Here, in the sloping shadow
+  The mountains make?
+
+He says not a word, but passes,
+  Staring at what he sees.
+What ghost of us both do you think he saw
+  Under the olive trees?
+
+All the things that are lovely--
+  The things you never knew--
+I wanted to gather them one by one
+  And bring them to you.
+
+But never now, my darling
+  Can I gather the mountain-tips
+From the twilight like half-shut lilies
+  To hold to your lips.
+
+And never the two-winged vessel
+  That sleeps below on the lake
+Can I catch like a moth between my hands
+  For you to take.
+
+But hush, I am not regretting:
+  It is far more perfect now.
+I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world
+  And tell them how
+
+I know you here in the darkness,
+  How you sit in the throne of my eyes
+At peace, and look out of the windows
+  In glad surprise.
+
+
+THE NORTH COUNTRY
+
+IN another country, black poplars shake them-
+    selves over a pond,
+And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and
+    wheel from the works beyond;
+The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the
+    grass is a darker green,
+And people darkly invested with purple move
+   palpable through the scene.
+
+Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the
+    resonant gloom
+That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels
+    the deep, slow boom
+Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum
+    of the purpled steel
+As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in
+    the sleep of the wheel.
+
+Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound-
+    lessly, somnambule
+Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned,
+    asleep in the rule
+Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming
+    the spell of its word
+Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic,
+    their will to its will deferred.
+
+Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out
+    of the violet air,
+The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that
+    toil and are will-less there
+In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a
+    dream near morning, strong
+With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep
+    that is now not long.
+
+
+BITTERNESS OF DEATH
+
+I
+
+AH, stern, cold man,
+How can you lie so relentless hard
+While I wash you with weeping water!
+Do you set your face against the daughter
+Of life? Can you never discard
+Your curt pride's ban?
+
+You masquerader!
+How can you shame to act this part
+Of unswerving indifference to me?
+You want at last, ah me!
+To break my heart
+Evader!
+
+You know your mouth
+Was always sooner to soften
+Even than your eyes.
+Now shut it lies
+Relentless, however often
+I kiss it in drouth.
+
+It has no breath
+Nor any relaxing. Where,
+Where are you, what have you done?
+What is this mouth of stone?
+How did you dare
+Take cover in death!
+
+II
+
+Once you could see,
+The white moon show like a breast revealed
+By the slipping shawl of stars.
+Could see the small stars tremble
+As the heart beneath did wield
+Systole, diastole.
+
+All the lovely macrocosm
+Was woman once to you,
+Bride to your groom.
+No tree in bloom
+But it leaned you a new
+White bosom.
+
+And always and ever
+Soft as a summering tree
+Unfolds from the sky, for your good,
+Unfolded womanhood;
+Shedding you down as a tree
+Sheds its flowers on a river.
+
+I saw your brows
+Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom,
+And I shed my very soul down into your
+   thought;
+Like flowers I fell, to be caught
+On the comforted pool, like bloom
+That leaves the boughs.
+
+III
+
+Oh, masquerader,
+With a hard face white-enamelled,
+What are you now?
+Do you care no longer how
+My heart is trammelled,
+Evader?
+
+Is this you, after all,
+Metallic, obdurate
+With bowels of steel?
+Did you _never_ feel?--
+Cold, insensate,
+Mechanical!
+
+Ah, no!--you multiform,
+You that I loved, you wonderful,
+You who darkened and shone,
+You were many men in one;
+But never this null
+This never-warm!
+
+Is this the sum of you?
+Is it all nought?
+Cold, metal-cold?
+Are you all told
+Here, iron-wrought?
+Is _this_ what's become of you?
+
+
+SEVEN SEALS
+
+SINCE this is the last night I keep you home,
+Come, I will consecrate you for the journey.
+
+Rather I had you would not go. Nay come,
+I will not again reproach you. Lie back
+And let me love you a long time ere you go.
+For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack
+The will to love me. But even so
+I will set a seal upon you from my lip,
+Will set a guard of honour at each door,
+Seal up each channel out of which might slip
+Your love for me.
+
+                 I kiss your mouth. Ah, love,
+Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring
+Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove
+Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up
+Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source
+I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in
+Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their
+    course
+The floods.
+
+                 I close your ears with kisses
+And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll
+    wear--
+Nay, let me work--a delicate chain of kisses.
+Like beads they go around, and not one misses
+To touch its fellow on either side.
+
+                 And there
+Full mid-between the champaign of your breast
+I place a great and burning seal of love
+Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest
+On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart.
+
+Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep
+You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port
+Of egress from you I will seal and steep
+In perfect chrism.
+          Now it is done. The mort
+Will sound in heaven before it is undone.
+
+But let me finish what I have begun
+And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail
+Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel.
+Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail
+Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel
+Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven
+Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven
+Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly
+Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me.
+
+
+READING A LETTER
+
+SHE sits on the recreation ground
+  Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale
+     blue sky.
+The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound
+  Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy.
+
+So sitting under the knotted canopy
+  Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in
+    a balloon
+Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see
+  The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon.
+
+She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one
+     place
+  Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and
+     stirring.
+But never the motion has a human face
+  Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring.
+
+And so again, on the recreation ground
+  She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the
+     scene;
+Suffering at sight of the children playing around,
+  Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even-
+     ing-green.
+
+
+TWENTY YEARS AGO
+
+ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries
+  And foal-foots spangling the paths,
+And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries
+  Caught dust from the sea's long swaths.
+
+Up the wolds the woods were walking,
+  And nuts fell out of their hair.
+At the gate the nets hung, balking
+  The star-lit rush of a hare.
+
+In the autumn fields, the stubble
+  Tinkled the music of gleaning.
+At a mother's knees, the trouble
+  Lost all its meaning.
+
+Yea, what good beginnings
+  To this sad end!
+Have we had our innings?
+  God forfend!
+
+
+INTIME
+
+RETURNING, I find her just the same,
+At just the same old delicate game.
+
+Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame
+To lick me up and do me harm!
+Be all yourself!--for oh, the charm
+Of your heart of fire in which I look!
+Oh, better there than in any book
+Glow and enact the dramas and dreams
+I love for ever!--there it seems
+You are lovelier than life itself, till desire
+Comes licking through the bars of your lips
+And over my face the stray fire slips,
+Leaving a burn and an ugly smart
+That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart
+Of fire and beauty, loose no more
+Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store
+Your passion in the basket of your soul,
+Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal
+That stays with steady joy of its own fire.
+But do not seek to take me by desire.
+Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire!
+For in the firing all my porcelain
+Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain,
+My ivory and marble black with stain,
+My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain,
+My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain
+A priestess execrable, taken in vain--"
+
+                         So the refrain
+Sings itself over, and so the game
+Re-starts itself wherein I am kept
+Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame
+So that the delicate love-adept
+Can warm her hands and invite her soul,
+Sprinkling incense and salt of words
+And kisses pale, and sipping the toll
+Of incense-smoke that rises like birds.
+
+Yet I've forgotten in playing this game,
+Things I have known that shall have no name;
+Forgetting the place from which I came
+I watch her ward away the flame,
+Yet warm herself at the fire--then blame
+Me that I flicker in the basket;
+Me that I glow not with content
+To have my substance so subtly spent;
+Me that I interrupt her game.
+I ought to be proud that she should ask it
+Of me to be her fire-opal--.
+
+                         It is well
+Since I am here for so short a spell
+Not to interrupt her?--Why should I
+Break in by making any reply!
+
+
+TWO WIVES
+
+I
+
+INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white
+Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night
+Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts
+A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear,
+Till petals heaped between the window-shafts
+            In a drift die there.
+
+A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed
+   pane
+Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely
+   stain
+The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed
+That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest
+Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead
+            Stretched out at rest.
+
+Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed
+The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest.
+Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again
+With wounds between them, and suffering like a
+   guest
+That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain
+            Leaves an empty breast.
+
+II
+
+A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow
+As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more
+She hastened towards the room. Did she know
+As she listened in silence outside the silent door?
+Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre
+            Awaiting the fire.
+
+Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow,
+Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the
+   stern
+Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow
+With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like
+   a fern
+Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white
+   peony slips
+            When the thread clips.
+
+Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard
+The ominous entry, nor saw the other love,
+The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared
+At such an hour to lay her claim, above
+A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed
+            With misery, no more proud.
+
+III
+
+The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll
+And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail
+In silence when she looked: for all the whole
+Darkness of failure was in them, without avail.
+Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost
+            Now claimed the host,
+
+She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed
+In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned
+Her head aside, but straight towards the bed
+Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily
+   burned.
+She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek,
+            And she started to speak
+
+Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said,
+"I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus.
+So I did not fight you. You went your way instead
+Of coming mine--and of the two of us
+I died the first, I, in the after-life
+            Am now your wife."
+
+IV
+
+"'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young
+Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung
+The secret of the moon within your eyes!
+My mouth you met before your fine red mouth
+Was set to song--and never your song denies
+            My love, till you went south."
+
+"'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on
+Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece
+   was none
+Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new
+Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat;
+I put my strength upon you, and I threw
+            My life at your feet."
+
+"But I whom the years had reared to be your bride,
+Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for
+   your sweat,
+Who for one strange year was as a bride to you--you
+   set me aside
+With all the old, sweet things of our youth;--and
+   never yet
+Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough
+            To defeat your baser stuff."
+
+V
+
+"But you are given back again to me
+Who have kept intact for you your virginity.
+Who for the rest of life walk out of care,
+Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone
+Where you are gone, and you and I out there
+            Walk now as one."
+
+"Your widow am I, and only I. I dream
+God bows his head and grants me this supreme
+Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone
+The mobility, the panther's gambolling,
+And all your being is given to me, so none
+            Can mock my struggling."
+
+"And now at last I kiss your perfect face,
+Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace.
+Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze
+In every bush, is given you back, and we
+Are met at length to finish our rest of days
+            In a unity."
+
+
+HEIMWEH
+
+FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the
+    garden at home.
+Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle
+    would tread them out in the loam.
+I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave,
+    and burst
+The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from
+    the hearth at which I was nursed.
+
+It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and
+    inviolate peace,
+The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my
+    fate and my old increase.
+And now that the skies are falling, the world is
+    spouting in fountains of dirt,
+I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with
+    me, go with me, both in one hurt.
+
+
+DEBACLE
+
+THE trees in trouble because of autumn,
+  And scarlet berries falling from the bush,
+And all the myriad houseless seeds
+  Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push
+
+Moan softly with autumnal parturition,
+  Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light
+Into the world of shadow, carried down
+  Between the bitter knees of the after-night.
+
+Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core
+  With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel,
+Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth
+  Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel.
+
+What is it internecine that is locked,
+  By very fierceness into a quiescence
+Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst
+  Out of corrosion into new florescence.
+
+Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed
+  The spark intense within it, all without
+Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard
+  For ruin on the naked small redoubt.
+
+Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally;
+  To have the mystery, but not go forth;
+To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save
+  The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from
+     the north.
+
+The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder
+     the heart
+  That saves the blue grain of eternal fire
+Within its quick, committed to hold and wait
+  And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire.
+
+
+NARCISSUS
+
+WHERE the minnows trace
+A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook,
+When I think of the place
+And remember the small lad lying intent to look
+Through the shadowy face
+At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook--
+
+It seems to me
+The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool
+Where we ought to be.
+You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool
+And waterly
+The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last
+    school.
+
+Narcissus
+Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection.
+Illyssus
+Broke the bounds and beyond!--Dim recollection
+Of fishes
+Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction!
+
+Be
+Undine towards the waters, moving back;
+For me
+A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack
+Your human self immortal; take the watery track.
+
+
+AUTUMN SUNSHINE
+
+THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses
+  And fills them up a pouring measure
+  Of death-producing wine, till treasure
+Runs waste down their chalices.
+
+All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould
+  Are on the board, are over-filled;
+  The portion to the gods is spilled;
+Now, mortals all, take hold!
+
+The time is now, the wine-cup full and full
+  Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup;
+  Let now all mortal men take up
+The drink, and a long, strong pull.
+
+Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine--
+  Drink then, invisible heroes, drink.
+  Lips to the vessels, never shrink,
+Throats to the heavens incline.
+
+And take within the wine the god's great oath
+  By heaven and earth and hellish stream
+  To break this sick and nauseous dream
+We writhe and lust in, both.
+
+Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the
+       queen
+  Of hell, to wake and be free
+  From this nightmare we writhe in,
+Break out of this foul has-been.
+
+
+ON THAT DAY
+
+   ON that day
+I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave
+With multitude of white roses: and since you were
+      brave
+   One bright red ray.
+
+   So people, passing under
+The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise
+Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in
+      wonder,
+   Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder
+
+   To see whose praise
+Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red.
+Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead,
+   Who has remembered her after many days?"
+
+   And standing there
+They will consider how you went your ways
+Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the
+      maze
+   Of this earthly affair.
+
+   A queen, they'll say,
+Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill.
+Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until
+   Dawns my insurgent day.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+
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diff --git a/22726-8.zip b/22726-8.zip
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+++ b/22726-h/22726-h.htm
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+
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+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" />
+    <title>
+      New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+    body { margin:15%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;}
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    .xx-small {font-size: 60%;}
+    .x-small {font-size: 75%;}
+    .small {font-size: 85%;}
+    .large {font-size: 115%;}
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+                font-variant: normal; font-style: normal;
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+                border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;}
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+    span.dropcap         { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 }
+    pre        { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;}
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: New Poems
+
+Author: D. H. Lawrence
+
+Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Etext produced by Lewis Jones
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      NEW POEMS
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By D. H. Lawrence
+    </h2>
+    <h4>
+      London: Martin Seeker
+    </h4>
+    <h3>
+      1918
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      TO
+    </h3>
+    <h3>
+      AMY LOWELL
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> APPREHENSION </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> COMING AWAKE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> FLAPPER </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> BIRDCAGE WALK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LETTER FROM TOWN: THE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THIEF IN THE NIGHT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> GIPSY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> TWO-FOLD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> UNDER THE OAK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> SIGH NO MORE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LOVE STORM </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> TARANTELLA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> IN CHURCH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> PIANO </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> PHANTASMAGORIA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> NEXT MORNING </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT, </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> SICKNESS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> EVERLASTING FLOWERS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> THE NORTH COUNTRY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> BITTERNESS OF DEATH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> SEVEN SEALS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> READING A LETTER </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> TWENTY YEARS AGO </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> INTIME </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TWO WIVES </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> HEIMWEH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> DEBACLE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> NARCISSUS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> AUTUMN SUNSHINE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> ON THAT DAY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      APPREHENSION
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+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.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      COMING AWAKE
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+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&mdash;they were fair enough
+          sights.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FROM A COLLEGE WINDOW
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+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.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FLAPPER
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+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.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BIRDCAGE WALK
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+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.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      LETTER FROM TOWN: THE
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ALMOND TREE
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you
+          forget?
+       White ones and blue ones from under the orchard
+          hedge?
+       Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a
+          pledge
+     Of our early love that hardly has opened yet.
+
+     Here there's an almond tree&mdash;you have never seen
+       Such a one in the north&mdash;it flowers on the street,
+          and I stand
+       Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers
+          that expand
+     At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean.
+
+     Under the almond tree, the happy lands
+       Provence, Japan, and Italy repose,
+       And passing feet are chatter and clapping of
+          those
+     Who play around us, country girls clapping their
+          hands.
+
+     You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown,
+       All your unbearable tenderness, you with the
+          laughter
+       Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here-
+          after,
+     You with loose hands of abandonment hanging
+          down.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MORNING
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE new red houses spring like plants
+           In level rows
+     Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants
+           Its square shadows.
+
+     The pink young houses show one side bright
+           Flatly assuming the sun,
+     And one side shadow, half in sight,
+           Half-hiding the pavement-run;
+
+     Where hastening creatures pass intent
+           On their level way,
+     Threading like ants that can never relent
+           And have nothing to say.
+
+     Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand
+           At random, desolate twigs,
+     To testify to a blight on the land
+           That has stripped their sprigs.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THIEF IN THE NIGHT
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+LAST night a thief came to me
+       And struck at me with something dark.
+     I cried, but no one could hear me,
+       I lay dumb and stark.
+
+     When I awoke this morning
+       I could find no trace;
+     Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning,
+       For I've lost my peace.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      GREY EVENING IN MARCH
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly
+          northward to you,
+     While north of them all, at the farthest ends,
+          stands one bright-bosomed, aglance
+     With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts,
+          red-fire seas running through
+     The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt
+          as a well-shot lance.
+
+     You should be out by the orchard, where violets
+          secretly darken the earth,
+     Or there in the woods of the twilight, with
+          northern wind-flowers shaken astir.
+     Think of me here in the library, trying and trying
+          a song that is worth
+     Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour
+          will turn or deter.
+
+     You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like
+          daisies white in the grass
+     Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed;
+          peewits turn after the plough&mdash;
+     It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the
+          road where I pass
+     And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of
+          each waterless brow.
+
+     Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in
+          the mesh of the budding trees,
+     A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my
+          soul to hear
+     The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it
+          rushes past like a breeze,
+     To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting
+          the after-echo of fear.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not,
+       What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you,
+          and raised
+     To show you thus transfigured, changed,
+       Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased?
+
+     Such resolute shapes, so harshly set
+       In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped
+     In void and null profusion, how is this?
+       In what strong <i>aqua regia</i> now are you steeped?
+
+     That you lose the brick-stuff out of you
+       And hover like a presentment, fading faint
+     And vanquished, evaporate away
+       To leave but only the merest possible taint!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE WAR
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     <i>Clerks</i>.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet
+         flowers of night
+     Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of
+         golden light.
+
+     Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come
+         aflower
+     To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the
+         hour.
+
+     Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our
+         fervent eyes
+     And out of the chambered weariness wanders a
+         spirit abroad on its enterprise.
+
+         Not too near and not too far
+         Out of the stress of the crowd
+         Music screams as elephants scream
+         When they lift their trunks and scream aloud
+         For joy of the night when masters are
+                Asleep and adream.
+
+         So here I hide in the Shalimar
+         With a wanton princess slender and proud,
+         And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem
+         Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud
+         Of golden dust, with star after star
+                On our stream.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      GIPSY
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     I, THE man with the red scarf,
+        Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn-
+             ings.
+     Take them, and buy thee a silver ring
+        And wed me, to ease my yearnings.
+
+     For the rest, when thou art wedded
+        I'll wet my brow for thee
+     With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake,
+        Thou shalt shut doors on me.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWO-FOLD
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur
+         cleaving
+     All with a flash of blue!&mdash;when will she be leaving
+     Her room, where the night still hangs like a half-
+         folded bat,
+     And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like
+         must in a vat.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      UNDER THE OAK
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     You, if you were sensible,
+     When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one
+        dreadful,
+     You would not turn and answer me
+     "The night is wonderful."
+
+     Even you, if you knew
+     How this darkness soaks me through and through,
+        and infuses
+     Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis-
+        tinguish
+     What hurts, from what amuses.
+
+     For I tell you
+     Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid
+     Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam
+     At the knife of a Druid.
+
+     Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies,
+     My life runs out.
+     I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak,
+     Gout upon gout.
+
+     Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe
+     In the shady smoke.
+     But who are you, twittering to and fro
+     Beneath the oak?
+
+     What thing better are you, what worse?
+     What have you to do with the mysteries
+     Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse?
+     What place have you in my histories?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SIGH NO MORE
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling,
+                    Calling,
+     Of a meaningless monotony is palling
+     All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered
+          wood.
+     May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling,
+                    Falling
+     In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling
+     Messages of true-love down the dust of the high-
+          road.
+     I do not like to hear the gentle grieving,
+                    Grieving
+     Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing
+     Love will yet again return to her and make all good.
+
+     When I know that there must ever be deceiving,
+                    Deceiving
+     Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's
+          weaving
+     Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another
+          wood.
+
+     Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling,
+                    Stalling
+     A progress down the intricate enthralling
+     By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff
+          their hood.
+
+     And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving,
+                    Heaving
+     A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving
+     A decent short regret for that which once was very
+          good.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      LOVE STORM
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+MANY roses in the wind
+     Are tapping at the window-sash.
+     A hawk is in the sky; his wings
+     Slowly begin to plash.
+
+     The roses with the west wind rapping
+     Are torn away, and a splash
+     Of red goes down the billowing air.
+
+     Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving
+     Past him&mdash;only a wing-beat proving
+     The will that holds him there.
+
+     The daisies in the grass are bending,
+     The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending
+     All the roses, and unending
+     Rustle of leaves washes out the rending
+     Cry of a bird.
+
+     A red rose goes on the wind.&mdash;Ascending
+     The hawk his wind-swept way is wending
+     Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending
+     Strange white signals, seem intending
+     To show the place whence the scream was heard.
+
+     But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping!
+     A silver wind is hastily wiping
+     The face of the youngest rose.
+
+     And oh, my heart, cease apprehending!
+     The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping
+     The window-sash as the west-wind blows.
+
+     Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping,
+     And fear is a plash of wings.
+     What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping
+     Down the bright-grey ruin of things!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      EVENING
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE houses fade in a melt of mist
+       Blotching the thick, soiled air
+     With reddish places that still resist
+       The Night's slow care.
+
+     The hopeless, wintry twilight fades,
+       The city corrodes out of sight
+     As the body corrodes when death invades
+       That citadel of delight.
+
+     Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread
+       Through the shroud of the town, as slow
+     Night-lights hither and thither shed
+       Their ghastly glow.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     <i>Street-Walkers</i>.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like
+        dust above the towns,
+     Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in
+        the midst of the downs,
+
+     Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain
+        along the street,
+     Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex-
+        pectancy to meet
+
+     The luminous mist which the poor things wist was
+        dawn arriving across the sky,
+     When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town
+        has driven so high.
+
+     All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep,
+        All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in
+           the sea,
+     Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round,
+           and keep
+        The shores of this innermost ocean alive and
+           illusory.
+
+     Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning
+           looked in at their eyes
+        And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and
+           now it is we
+     Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a
+           Paradise
+        On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of
+           the town-dark sea.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TARANTELLA
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone
+     And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon,
+     And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and
+        the boulders.
+     He sits like a shade by the flood alone
+     While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the
+        croon
+     Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves'
+        bright shoulders.
+
+     What can I do but dance alone,
+     Dance to the sliding sea and the moon,
+     For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs
+        and the foam on my feet?
+     For surely this earnest man has none
+     Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune
+     Of the waters within him; only the world's old
+        wisdom to bleat.
+
+     I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the
+        glittering shingle,
+     A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes
+     And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss
+     On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle
+     To touch the sea in the last surprise
+     Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IN CHURCH
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn.
+             The morning light on their lips
+     Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim.
+
+     Sudden outside the high window, one crow
+             Hangs in the air
+     And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe.
+
+     One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top
+             Of the withered tree!&mdash;in the grail
+     Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop.
+
+     Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway
+             In the tender wine
+     Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PIANO
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
+     Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
+     A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the
+         tingling strings
+     And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who
+         smiles as she sings.
+
+     In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
+     Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
+     To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter
+         outside
+     And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano
+         our guide.
+
+     So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
+     With the great black piano appassionato. The
+         glamour
+     Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
+     Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a
+         child for the past.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      BEFORE THE WAR
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     <i>Charity</i>.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+BY the river
+     In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks
+         down,
+     Dropping and starting from sleep
+     Alone on a seat
+     A woman crouches.
+
+     I must go back to her.
+
+     I want to give her
+     Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of
+         her gown
+     Asleep. My fingers creep
+     Carefully over the sweet
+     Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches.
+
+     So, the gift!
+
+     God, how she starts!
+     And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand!
+     And again at me!
+     I turn and run
+     Down the Embankment, run for my life.
+
+     But why?&mdash;why?
+
+     Because of my heart's
+     Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand
+     In the street spilled over splendidly
+     With wet, flat lights. What I've done
+     I know not, my soul is in strife.
+
+     The touch was on the quick. I want to forget.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PHANTASMAGORIA
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone
+     Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall
+     And climb the stairs to find the group of doors
+     Standing angel-stern and tall.
+
+     I want my own room's shelter. But what is this
+     Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown
+     In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees'
+     Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown?
+
+     Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep
+     Aloud, suddenly on my mind
+     Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind
+     Breaks and sobs in the blind.
+
+     So like to women, tall strange women weeping!
+     Why continually do they cross the bed?
+     Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear?
+     I am listening! Is anything said?
+
+     Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed;
+     They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and
+         beckoning.
+     Whither then, whither, what is it, say
+     What is the reckoning.
+
+     Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why
+     Do you rush to assail me?
+     Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal?
+     What should it avail me?
+
+     Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes
+     Suburban dismal?
+     Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies
+     Black and phantasmal?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NEXT MORNING
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     How have I wandered here to this vaulted room
+     In the house of life?&mdash;the floor was ruffled with gold
+     Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom,
+     Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight
+         unfold
+
+     For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom
+     Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould,
+     And damp old web of misery's heirloom
+     Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold.
+
+     And what is this that floats on the undermist
+     Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling
+     Unsightly its way to the warmth?&mdash;this thing with
+         a list
+     To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing?
+
+     Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it
+         missed
+     Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing
+     Upon me!&mdash;my own reflection!&mdash;explicit gist
+     Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from
+         the ceiling!
+
+     Then will somebody square this shade with the
+         being I know
+     I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell
+     And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be
+         so?
+     What is there gone against me, why am I in hell?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+DARKNESS comes out of the earth
+       And swallows dip into the pallor of the west;
+     From the hay comes the clamour of children's
+          mirth;
+     Wanes the old palimpsest.
+
+     The night-stock oozes scent,
+       And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by:
+     All that the worldly day has meant
+       Wastes like a lie.
+
+     The children have forsaken their play;
+       A single star in a veil of light
+     Glimmers: litter of day
+       Is gone from sight.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      BEFORE THE WAR
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     <i>Outcasts</i>.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE night rain, dripping unseen,
+     Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands.
+
+     The river, slipping between
+     Lamps, is rayed with golden bands
+     Half way down its heaving sides;
+     Revealed where it hides.
+
+     Under the bridge
+     Great electric cars
+     Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing
+         along at its side.
+     Far off, oh, midge after midge
+     Drifts over the gulf that bars
+     The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched
+         tide.
+
+     At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge
+     Sleep in a row the outcasts,
+     Packed in a line with their heads against the wall.
+     Their feet, in a broken ridge
+     Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts
+     A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall.
+
+     Beasts that sleep will cover
+     Their faces in their flank; so these
+     Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep.
+     Save, as the tram-cars hover
+     Past with the noise of a breeze
+     And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap,
+
+     Two naked faces are seen
+     Bare and asleep,
+     Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the
+         cars.
+     Foam-clots showing between
+     The long, low tidal-heap,
+     The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars.
+
+     Over the pallor of only two faces
+     Passes the gallivant beam of the trams;
+     Shows in only two sad places
+     The white bare bone of our shams.
+
+     A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping,
+     With a face like a chickweed flower.
+     And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping
+     Callous and dour.
+
+     Over the pallor of only two places
+     Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap
+     Passes the light of the tram as it races
+     Out of the deep.
+
+     Eloquent limbs
+     In disarray
+     Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth
+         thighs
+     Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims
+     Of trousers fray
+     On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies.
+
+     The balls of five red toes
+     As red and dirty, bare
+     Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud&mdash;
+     Newspaper sheets enclose
+     Some limbs like parcels, and tear
+     When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the
+         flood&mdash;
+
+     One heaped mound
+     Of a woman's knees
+     As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt&mdash;
+     And a curious dearth of sound
+     In the presence of these
+     Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any
+         hurt.
+
+     Over two shadowless, shameless faces
+     Stark on the heap
+     Travels the light as it tilts in its paces
+     Gone in one leap.
+
+     At the feet of the sleepers, watching,
+     Stand those that wait
+     For a place to lie down; and still as they stand,
+         they sleep,
+     Wearily catching
+     The flood's slow gait
+     Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the
+         deep.
+
+     Oh, the singing mansions,
+     Golden-lighted tall
+     Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night!
+     The bridge on its stanchions
+     Stoops like a pall
+     To this human blight.
+
+     On the outer pavement, slowly,
+     Theatre people pass,
+     Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are
+         bright
+     Like flowers of infernal moly
+     Over nocturnal grass
+     Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight.
+
+     And still by the rotten
+     Row of shattered feet,
+     Outcasts keep guard.
+     Forgotten,
+     Forgetting, till fate shall delete
+     One from the ward.
+
+     The factories on the Surrey side
+     Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky.
+     The river's invisible tide
+     Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye.
+
+     And great gold midges
+     Cross the chasm
+     At the bridges
+     Above intertwined plasm.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE frost has settled down upon the trees
+     And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies
+     Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old
+     Romantic stories now no more to be told.
+
+     The trees down the boulevard stand naked in
+         thought,
+     Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught
+     In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront
+     Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt.
+
+     Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths
+         of the twigs?
+     Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the
+         birch?&mdash;
+     It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on
+         the sprigs,
+     Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with
+         their perch.
+
+     The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself.
+     Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all
+     Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought
+     Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     How different, in the middle of snows, the great
+          school rises red!
+       A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round
+          with clusters of shouting lads,
+     Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that
+          cling as the souls of the dead
+       In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate
+          dark monads.
+
+     This new red rock in a waste of white rises against
+          the day
+       With shelter now, and with blandishment, since
+          the winds have had their way
+     And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on
+          the world of mankind,
+       School now is the rock in this weary land the winter
+          burns and makes blind.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SICKNESS
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark,
+     Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the
+         bark
+     Of my body slowly behind.
+
+     Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night
+     Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if
+         in their flight
+     My hands should touch the door!
+
+     What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door
+     Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet,
+         before
+     I can draw back!
+
+     What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide
+     And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone
+         down the tide
+     Of eternal hereafter!
+
+     Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts.
+     Take them away from their venture, before fate
+         wrests
+     The meaning out of them.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EVERLASTING FLOWERS
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+WHO do you think stands watching
+       The snow-tops shining rosy
+     In heaven, now that the darkness
+       Takes all but the tallest posy?
+
+     Who then sees the two-winged
+       Boat down there, all alone
+     And asleep on the snow's last shadow,
+       Like a moth on a stone?
+
+     The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies,
+       Have all gone dark, gone black.
+     And now in the dark my soul to you
+       Turns back.
+
+     To you, my little darling,
+       To you, out of Italy.
+     For what is loveliness, my love,
+       Save you have it with me!
+
+     So, there's an oxen wagon
+       Comes darkly into sight:
+     A man with a lantern, swinging
+       A little light.
+
+     What does he see, my darling
+       Here by the darkened lake?
+     Here, in the sloping shadow
+       The mountains make?
+
+     He says not a word, but passes,
+       Staring at what he sees.
+     What ghost of us both do you think he saw
+       Under the olive trees?
+
+     All the things that are lovely&mdash;
+       The things you never knew&mdash;
+     I wanted to gather them one by one
+       And bring them to you.
+
+     But never now, my darling
+       Can I gather the mountain-tips
+     From the twilight like half-shut lilies
+       To hold to your lips.
+
+     And never the two-winged vessel
+       That sleeps below on the lake
+     Can I catch like a moth between my hands
+       For you to take.
+
+     But hush, I am not regretting:
+       It is far more perfect now.
+     I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world
+       And tell them how
+
+     I know you here in the darkness,
+       How you sit in the throne of my eyes
+     At peace, and look out of the windows
+       In glad surprise.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE NORTH COUNTRY
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+IN another country, black poplars shake them-
+         selves over a pond,
+     And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and
+         wheel from the works beyond;
+     The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the
+         grass is a darker green,
+     And people darkly invested with purple move
+        palpable through the scene.
+
+     Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the
+         resonant gloom
+     That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels
+         the deep, slow boom
+     Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum
+         of the purpled steel
+     As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in
+         the sleep of the wheel.
+
+     Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound-
+         lessly, somnambule
+     Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned,
+         asleep in the rule
+     Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming
+         the spell of its word
+     Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic,
+         their will to its will deferred.
+
+     Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out
+         of the violet air,
+     The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that
+         toil and are will-less there
+     In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a
+         dream near morning, strong
+     With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep
+         that is now not long.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BITTERNESS OF DEATH
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     I
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+AH, stern, cold man,
+     How can you lie so relentless hard
+     While I wash you with weeping water!
+     Do you set your face against the daughter
+     Of life? Can you never discard
+     Your curt pride's ban?
+
+     You masquerader!
+     How can you shame to act this part
+     Of unswerving indifference to me?
+     You want at last, ah me!
+     To break my heart
+     Evader!
+
+     You know your mouth
+     Was always sooner to soften
+     Even than your eyes.
+     Now shut it lies
+     Relentless, however often
+     I kiss it in drouth.
+
+     It has no breath
+     Nor any relaxing. Where,
+     Where are you, what have you done?
+     What is this mouth of stone?
+     How did you dare
+     Take cover in death!
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      II
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Once you could see,
+     The white moon show like a breast revealed
+     By the slipping shawl of stars.
+     Could see the small stars tremble
+     As the heart beneath did wield
+     Systole, diastole.
+
+     All the lovely macrocosm
+     Was woman once to you,
+     Bride to your groom.
+     No tree in bloom
+     But it leaned you a new
+     White bosom.
+
+     And always and ever
+     Soft as a summering tree
+     Unfolds from the sky, for your good,
+     Unfolded womanhood;
+     Shedding you down as a tree
+     Sheds its flowers on a river.
+
+     I saw your brows
+     Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom,
+     And I shed my very soul down into your
+        thought;
+     Like flowers I fell, to be caught
+     On the comforted pool, like bloom
+     That leaves the boughs.
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      III
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Oh, masquerader,
+     With a hard face white-enamelled,
+     What are you now?
+     Do you care no longer how
+     My heart is trammelled,
+     Evader?
+
+     Is this you, after all,
+     Metallic, obdurate
+     With bowels of steel?
+     Did you <i>never</i> feel?&mdash;
+     Cold, insensate,
+     Mechanical!
+
+     Ah, no!&mdash;you multiform,
+     You that I loved, you wonderful,
+     You who darkened and shone,
+     You were many men in one;
+     But never this null
+     This never-warm!
+
+     Is this the sum of you?
+     Is it all nought?
+     Cold, metal-cold?
+     Are you all told
+     Here, iron-wrought?
+     Is <i>this</i> what's become of you?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      SEVEN SEALS
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+SINCE this is the last night I keep you home,
+     Come, I will consecrate you for the journey.
+
+     Rather I had you would not go. Nay come,
+     I will not again reproach you. Lie back
+     And let me love you a long time ere you go.
+     For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack
+     The will to love me. But even so
+     I will set a seal upon you from my lip,
+     Will set a guard of honour at each door,
+     Seal up each channel out of which might slip
+     Your love for me.
+
+                      I kiss your mouth. Ah, love,
+     Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring
+     Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove
+     Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up
+     Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source
+     I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in
+     Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their
+         course
+     The floods.
+
+                      I close your ears with kisses
+     And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll
+         wear&mdash;
+     Nay, let me work&mdash;a delicate chain of kisses.
+     Like beads they go around, and not one misses
+     To touch its fellow on either side.
+
+                      And there
+     Full mid-between the champaign of your breast
+     I place a great and burning seal of love
+     Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest
+     On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart.
+
+     Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep
+     You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port
+     Of egress from you I will seal and steep
+     In perfect chrism.
+               Now it is done. The mort
+     Will sound in heaven before it is undone.
+
+     But let me finish what I have begun
+     And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail
+     Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel.
+     Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail
+     Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel
+     Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven
+     Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven
+     Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly
+     Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      READING A LETTER
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+SHE sits on the recreation ground
+       Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale
+          blue sky.
+     The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound
+       Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy.
+
+     So sitting under the knotted canopy
+       Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in
+         a balloon
+     Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see
+       The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon.
+
+     She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one
+          place
+       Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and
+          stirring.
+     But never the motion has a human face
+       Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring.
+
+     And so again, on the recreation ground
+       She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the
+          scene;
+     Suffering at sight of the children playing around,
+       Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even-
+          ing-green.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWENTY YEARS AGO
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries
+       And foal-foots spangling the paths,
+     And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries
+       Caught dust from the sea's long swaths.
+
+     Up the wolds the woods were walking,
+       And nuts fell out of their hair.
+     At the gate the nets hung, balking
+       The star-lit rush of a hare.
+
+     In the autumn fields, the stubble
+       Tinkled the music of gleaning.
+     At a mother's knees, the trouble
+       Lost all its meaning.
+
+     Yea, what good beginnings
+       To this sad end!
+     Have we had our innings?
+       God forfend!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      INTIME
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+RETURNING, I find her just the same,
+     At just the same old delicate game.
+
+     Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame
+     To lick me up and do me harm!
+     Be all yourself!&mdash;for oh, the charm
+     Of your heart of fire in which I look!
+     Oh, better there than in any book
+     Glow and enact the dramas and dreams
+     I love for ever!&mdash;there it seems
+     You are lovelier than life itself, till desire
+     Comes licking through the bars of your lips
+     And over my face the stray fire slips,
+     Leaving a burn and an ugly smart
+     That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart
+     Of fire and beauty, loose no more
+     Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store
+     Your passion in the basket of your soul,
+     Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal
+     That stays with steady joy of its own fire.
+     But do not seek to take me by desire.
+     Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire!
+     For in the firing all my porcelain
+     Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain,
+     My ivory and marble black with stain,
+     My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain,
+     My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain
+     A priestess execrable, taken in vain&mdash;"
+
+                              So the refrain
+     Sings itself over, and so the game
+     Re-starts itself wherein I am kept
+     Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame
+     So that the delicate love-adept
+     Can warm her hands and invite her soul,
+     Sprinkling incense and salt of words
+     And kisses pale, and sipping the toll
+     Of incense-smoke that rises like birds.
+
+     Yet I've forgotten in playing this game,
+     Things I have known that shall have no name;
+     Forgetting the place from which I came
+     I watch her ward away the flame,
+     Yet warm herself at the fire&mdash;then blame
+     Me that I flicker in the basket;
+     Me that I glow not with content
+     To have my substance so subtly spent;
+     Me that I interrupt her game.
+     I ought to be proud that she should ask it
+     Of me to be her fire-opal&mdash;.
+
+                              It is well
+     Since I am here for so short a spell
+     Not to interrupt her?&mdash;Why should I
+     Break in by making any reply!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      TWO WIVES
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     I
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white
+     Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night
+     Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts
+     A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear,
+     Till petals heaped between the window-shafts
+                 In a drift die there.
+
+     A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed
+        pane
+     Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely
+        stain
+     The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed
+     That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest
+     Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead
+                 Stretched out at rest.
+
+     Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed
+     The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest.
+     Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again
+     With wounds between them, and suffering like a
+        guest
+     That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain
+                 Leaves an empty breast.
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      II
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow
+     As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more
+     She hastened towards the room. Did she know
+     As she listened in silence outside the silent door?
+     Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre
+                 Awaiting the fire.
+
+     Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow,
+     Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the
+        stern
+     Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow
+     With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like
+        a fern
+     Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white
+        peony slips
+                 When the thread clips.
+
+     Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard
+     The ominous entry, nor saw the other love,
+     The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared
+     At such an hour to lay her claim, above
+     A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed
+                 With misery, no more proud.
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      III
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll
+     And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail
+     In silence when she looked: for all the whole
+     Darkness of failure was in them, without avail.
+     Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost
+                 Now claimed the host,
+
+     She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed
+     In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned
+     Her head aside, but straight towards the bed
+     Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily
+        burned.
+     She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek,
+                 And she started to speak
+
+     Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said,
+     "I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus.
+     So I did not fight you. You went your way instead
+     Of coming mine&mdash;and of the two of us
+     I died the first, I, in the after-life
+                 Am now your wife."
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      IV
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     "'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young
+     Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung
+     The secret of the moon within your eyes!
+     My mouth you met before your fine red mouth
+     Was set to song&mdash;and never your song denies
+                 My love, till you went south."
+
+     "'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on
+     Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece
+        was none
+     Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new
+     Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat;
+     I put my strength upon you, and I threw
+                 My life at your feet."
+
+     "But I whom the years had reared to be your bride,
+     Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for
+        your sweat,
+     Who for one strange year was as a bride to you&mdash;you
+        set me aside
+     With all the old, sweet things of our youth;&mdash;and
+        never yet
+     Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough
+                 To defeat your baser stuff."
+
+     V
+
+     "But you are given back again to me
+     Who have kept intact for you your virginity.
+     Who for the rest of life walk out of care,
+     Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone
+     Where you are gone, and you and I out there
+                 Walk now as one."
+
+     "Your widow am I, and only I. I dream
+     God bows his head and grants me this supreme
+     Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone
+     The mobility, the panther's gambolling,
+     And all your being is given to me, so none
+                 Can mock my struggling."
+
+     "And now at last I kiss your perfect face,
+     Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace.
+     Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze
+     In every bush, is given you back, and we
+     Are met at length to finish our rest of days
+                 In a unity."
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      HEIMWEH
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the
+         garden at home.
+     Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle
+         would tread them out in the loam.
+     I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave,
+         and burst
+     The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from
+         the hearth at which I was nursed.
+
+     It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and
+         inviolate peace,
+     The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my
+         fate and my old increase.
+     And now that the skies are falling, the world is
+         spouting in fountains of dirt,
+     I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with
+         me, go with me, both in one hurt.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      DEBACLE
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE trees in trouble because of autumn,
+       And scarlet berries falling from the bush,
+     And all the myriad houseless seeds
+       Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push
+
+     Moan softly with autumnal parturition,
+       Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light
+     Into the world of shadow, carried down
+       Between the bitter knees of the after-night.
+
+     Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core
+       With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel,
+     Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth
+       Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel.
+
+     What is it internecine that is locked,
+       By very fierceness into a quiescence
+     Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst
+       Out of corrosion into new florescence.
+
+     Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed
+       The spark intense within it, all without
+     Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard
+       For ruin on the naked small redoubt.
+
+     Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally;
+       To have the mystery, but not go forth;
+     To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save
+       The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from
+          the north.
+
+     The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder
+          the heart
+       That saves the blue grain of eternal fire
+     Within its quick, committed to hold and wait
+       And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      NARCISSUS
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+WHERE the minnows trace
+     A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook,
+     When I think of the place
+     And remember the small lad lying intent to look
+     Through the shadowy face
+     At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook&mdash;
+
+     It seems to me
+     The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool
+     Where we ought to be.
+     You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool
+     And waterly
+     The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last
+         school.
+
+     Narcissus
+     Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection.
+     Illyssus
+     Broke the bounds and beyond!&mdash;Dim recollection
+     Of fishes
+     Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction!
+
+     Be
+     Undine towards the waters, moving back;
+     For me
+     A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack
+     Your human self immortal; take the watery track.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      AUTUMN SUNSHINE
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses
+       And fills them up a pouring measure
+       Of death-producing wine, till treasure
+     Runs waste down their chalices.
+
+     All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould
+       Are on the board, are over-filled;
+       The portion to the gods is spilled;
+     Now, mortals all, take hold!
+
+     The time is now, the wine-cup full and full
+       Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup;
+       Let now all mortal men take up
+     The drink, and a long, strong pull.
+
+     Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine&mdash;
+       Drink then, invisible heroes, drink.
+       Lips to the vessels, never shrink,
+     Throats to the heavens incline.
+
+     And take within the wine the god's great oath
+       By heaven and earth and hellish stream
+       To break this sick and nauseous dream
+     We writhe and lust in, both.
+
+     Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the
+            queen
+       Of hell, to wake and be free
+       From this nightmare we writhe in,
+     Break out of this foul has-been.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      ON THAT DAY
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   ON that day
+     I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave
+     With multitude of white roses: and since you were
+           brave
+        One bright red ray.
+
+        So people, passing under
+     The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise
+     Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in
+           wonder,
+        Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder
+
+        To see whose praise
+     Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red.
+     Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead,
+        Who has remembered her after many days?"
+
+        And standing there
+     They will consider how you went your ways
+     Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the
+           maze
+        Of this earthly affair.
+
+        A queen, they'll say,
+     Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill.
+     Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until
+        Dawns my insurgent day.
+</pre>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
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+</pre>
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+</html>
diff --git a/22726.txt b/22726.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: New Poems
+
+Author: D. H. Lawrence
+
+Release Date: September 22, 2007 [EBook #22726]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lewis Jones
+
+
+
+
+
+D.H. Lawrence (1918) _New Poems_
+
+
+
+NEW POEMS
+
+
+
+POEMS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+   LOVE POEMS AND OTHERS
+   AMORES
+   LOOK, WE HAVE COME THROUGH
+
+
+
+FIRST PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1918
+NEW EDITION (RESET), AUGUST, 1919
+
+
+
+New Poems
+
+By D. H. Lawrence
+
+
+
+London: Martin Seeker
+
+
+
+TO
+AMY LOWELL
+
+
+
+THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH, ENGLAND
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+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: Clerks
+Gipsy
+Two-Fold
+Under the Oak
+Sigh no More
+Love Storm
+Parliament Hill in the Evening
+Piccadilly Circus at Night: Street Walkers
+Tarantella
+In Church
+Piano
+Embankment at Night: Charity
+Phantasmagoria
+Next Morning
+Palimpsest of Twilight
+Embankment at Night: Outcasts
+Winter in the Boulevard
+School on the Outskirts
+Sickness
+Everlasting Flowers
+The North Country
+Bitterness of Death
+Seven Seals
+Reading a Letter
+Twenty Years Ago
+Intime
+Two Wives
+Heimweh
+Debacle
+Narcissus
+Autumn Sunshine
+On That Day
+
+
+
+APPREHENSION
+
+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
+
+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
+
+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
+
+LOVE has crept out of her sealed 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
+
+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
+ALMOND TREE
+
+YOU promised to send me some violets. Did you
+     forget?
+  White ones and blue ones from under the orchard
+     hedge?
+  Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a
+     pledge
+Of our early love that hardly has opened yet.
+
+Here there's an almond tree--you have never seen
+  Such a one in the north--it flowers on the street,
+     and I stand
+  Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers
+     that expand
+At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean.
+
+Under the almond tree, the happy lands
+  Provence, Japan, and Italy repose,
+  And passing feet are chatter and clapping of
+     those
+Who play around us, country girls clapping their
+     hands.
+
+You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown,
+  All your unbearable tenderness, you with the
+     laughter
+  Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here-
+     after,
+You with loose hands of abandonment hanging
+     down.
+
+
+FLAT SUBURBS, S.W., IN THE
+MORNING
+
+THE new red houses spring like plants
+      In level rows
+Of reddish herbage that bristles and slants
+      Its square shadows.
+
+The pink young houses show one side bright
+      Flatly assuming the sun,
+And one side shadow, half in sight,
+      Half-hiding the pavement-run;
+
+Where hastening creatures pass intent
+      On their level way,
+Threading like ants that can never relent
+      And have nothing to say.
+
+Bare stems of street-lamps stiffly stand
+      At random, desolate twigs,
+To testify to a blight on the land
+      That has stripped their sprigs.
+
+
+
+THIEF IN THE NIGHT
+
+LAST night a thief came to me
+  And struck at me with something dark.
+I cried, but no one could hear me,
+  I lay dumb and stark.
+
+When I awoke this morning
+  I could find no trace;
+Perhaps 'twas a dream of warning,
+  For I've lost my peace.
+
+
+LETTER FROM TOWN: ON A
+GREY EVENING IN MARCH
+
+THE clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly
+     northward to you,
+While north of them all, at the farthest ends,
+     stands one bright-bosomed, aglance
+With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts,
+     red-fire seas running through
+The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt
+     as a well-shot lance.
+
+You should be out by the orchard, where violets
+     secretly darken the earth,
+Or there in the woods of the twilight, with
+     northern wind-flowers shaken astir.
+Think of me here in the library, trying and trying
+     a song that is worth
+Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour
+     will turn or deter.
+
+You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like
+     daisies white in the grass
+Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed;
+     peewits turn after the plough--
+It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the
+     road where I pass
+And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of
+     each waterless brow.
+
+Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in
+     the mesh of the budding trees,
+A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my
+     soul to hear
+The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it
+     rushes past like a breeze,
+To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting
+     the after-echo of fear.
+
+
+SUBURBS ON A HAZY DAY
+
+O STIFFLY shapen houses that change not,
+  What conjuror's cloth was thrown across you,
+     and raised
+To show you thus transfigured, changed,
+  Your stuff all gone, your menace almost rased?
+
+Such resolute shapes, so harshly set
+  In hollow blocks and cubes deformed, and heaped
+In void and null profusion, how is this?
+  In what strong _aqua regia_ now are you steeped?
+
+That you lose the brick-stuff out of you
+  And hover like a presentment, fading faint
+And vanquished, evaporate away
+  To leave but only the merest possible taint!
+
+
+HYDE PARK AT NIGHT, BEFORE
+THE WAR
+
+_Clerks_.
+
+WE have shut the doors behind us, and the velvet
+    flowers of night
+Lean about us scattering their pollen grains of
+    golden light.
+
+Now at last we lift our faces, and our faces come
+    aflower
+To the night that takes us willing, liberates us to the
+    hour.
+
+Now at last the ink and dudgeon passes from our
+    fervent eyes
+And out of the chambered weariness wanders a
+    spirit abroad on its enterprise.
+
+    Not too near and not too far
+    Out of the stress of the crowd
+    Music screams as elephants scream
+    When they lift their trunks and scream aloud
+    For joy of the night when masters are
+           Asleep and adream.
+
+    So here I hide in the Shalimar
+    With a wanton princess slender and proud,
+    And we swoon with kisses, swoon till we seem
+    Two streaming peacocks gone in a cloud
+    Of golden dust, with star after star
+           On our stream.
+
+
+GIPSY
+
+I, THE man with the red scarf,
+   Will give thee what I have, this last week's earn-
+        ings.
+Take them, and buy thee a silver ring
+   And wed me, to ease my yearnings.
+
+For the rest, when thou art wedded
+   I'll wet my brow for thee
+With sweat, I'll enter a house for thy sake,
+   Thou shalt shut doors on me.
+
+
+TWO-FOLD
+
+How gorgeous that shock of red lilies, and larkspur
+    cleaving
+All with a flash of blue!--when will she be leaving
+Her room, where the night still hangs like a half-
+    folded bat,
+And passion unbearable seethes in the darkness, like
+    must in a vat.
+
+
+UNDER THE OAK
+
+You, if you were sensible,
+When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one
+   dreadful,
+You would not turn and answer me
+"The night is wonderful."
+
+Even you, if you knew
+How this darkness soaks me through and through,
+   and infuses
+Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to dis-
+   tinguish
+What hurts, from what amuses.
+
+For I tell you
+Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soul's fluid
+Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steam
+At the knife of a Druid.
+
+Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies,
+My life runs out.
+I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak,
+Gout upon gout.
+
+Above me springs the blood-born mistletoe
+In the shady smoke.
+But who are you, twittering to and fro
+Beneath the oak?
+
+What thing better are you, what worse?
+What have you to do with the mysteries
+Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse?
+What place have you in my histories?
+
+
+SIGH NO MORE
+
+THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling,
+               Calling,
+Of a meaningless monotony is palling
+All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered
+     wood.
+May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling,
+               Falling
+In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling
+Messages of true-love down the dust of the high-
+     road.
+I do not like to hear the gentle grieving,
+               Grieving
+Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing
+Love will yet again return to her and make all good.
+
+When I know that there must ever be deceiving,
+               Deceiving
+Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's
+     weaving
+Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another
+     wood.
+
+Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling,
+               Stalling
+A progress down the intricate enthralling
+By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff
+     their hood.
+
+And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving,
+               Heaving
+A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving
+A decent short regret for that which once was very
+     good.
+
+
+LOVE STORM
+
+MANY roses in the wind
+Are tapping at the window-sash.
+A hawk is in the sky; his wings
+Slowly begin to plash.
+
+The roses with the west wind rapping
+Are torn away, and a splash
+Of red goes down the billowing air.
+
+Still hangs the hawk, with the whole sky moving
+Past him--only a wing-beat proving
+The will that holds him there.
+
+The daisies in the grass are bending,
+The hawk has dropped, the wind is spending
+All the roses, and unending
+Rustle of leaves washes out the rending
+Cry of a bird.
+
+A red rose goes on the wind.--Ascending
+The hawk his wind-swept way is wending
+Easily down the sky. The daisies, sending
+Strange white signals, seem intending
+To show the place whence the scream was heard.
+
+But, oh, my heart, what birds are piping!
+A silver wind is hastily wiping
+The face of the youngest rose.
+
+And oh, my heart, cease apprehending!
+The hawk is gone, a rose is tapping
+The window-sash as the west-wind blows.
+
+Knock, knock, 'tis no more than a red rose rapping,
+And fear is a plash of wings.
+What, then, if a scarlet rose goes flapping
+Down the bright-grey ruin of things!
+
+
+PARLIAMENT HILL IN THE
+EVENING
+
+THE houses fade in a melt of mist
+  Blotching the thick, soiled air
+With reddish places that still resist
+  The Night's slow care.
+
+The hopeless, wintry twilight fades,
+  The city corrodes out of sight
+As the body corrodes when death invades
+  That citadel of delight.
+
+Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread
+  Through the shroud of the town, as slow
+Night-lights hither and thither shed
+  Their ghastly glow.
+
+
+PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT
+
+_Street-Walkers_.
+
+WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like
+   dust above the towns,
+Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in
+   the midst of the downs,
+
+Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain
+   along the street,
+Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in ex-
+   pectancy to meet
+
+The luminous mist which the poor things wist was
+   dawn arriving across the sky,
+When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town
+   has driven so high.
+
+All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep,
+   All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in
+      the sea,
+Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round,
+      and keep
+   The shores of this innermost ocean alive and
+      illusory.
+
+Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning
+      looked in at their eyes
+   And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and
+      now it is we
+Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a
+      Paradise
+   On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of
+      the town-dark sea.
+
+
+TARANTELLA
+
+SAD as he sits on the white sea-stone
+And the suave sea chuckles, and turns to the moon,
+And the moon significant smiles at the cliffs and
+   the boulders.
+He sits like a shade by the flood alone
+While I dance a tarantella on the rocks, and the
+   croon
+Of my mockery mocks at him over the waves'
+   bright shoulders.
+
+What can I do but dance alone,
+Dance to the sliding sea and the moon,
+For the moon on my breast and the air on my limbs
+   and the foam on my feet?
+For surely this earnest man has none
+Of the night in his soul, and none of the tune
+Of the waters within him; only the world's old
+   wisdom to bleat.
+
+I wish a wild sea-fellow would come down the
+   glittering shingle,
+A soulless neckar, with winking seas in his eyes
+And falling waves in his arms, and the lost soul's kiss
+On his lips: I long to be soulless, I tingle
+To touch the sea in the last surprise
+Of fiery coldness, to be gone in a lost soul's bliss.
+
+
+IN CHURCH
+
+IN the choir the boys are singing the hymn.
+        The morning light on their lips
+Moves in silver-moist flashes, in musical trim.
+
+Sudden outside the high window, one crow
+        Hangs in the air
+And lights on a withered oak-tree's top of woe.
+
+One bird, one blot, folded and still at the top
+        Of the withered tree!--in the grail
+Of crystal heaven falls one full black drop.
+
+Like a soft full drop of darkness it seems to sway
+        In the tender wine
+Of our Sabbath, suffusing our sacred day.
+
+
+PIANO
+
+Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
+Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
+A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the
+    tingling strings
+And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who
+    smiles as she sings.
+
+In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
+Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
+To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter
+    outside
+And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano
+    our guide.
+
+So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
+With the great black piano appassionato. The
+    glamour
+Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
+Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a
+    child for the past.
+
+
+EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+BEFORE THE WAR
+
+_Charity_.
+
+BY the river
+In the black wet night as the furtive rain slinks
+    down,
+Dropping and starting from sleep
+Alone on a seat
+A woman crouches.
+
+I must go back to her.
+
+I want to give her
+Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of
+    her gown
+Asleep. My fingers creep
+Carefully over the sweet
+Thumb-mound, into the palm's deep pouches.
+
+So, the gift!
+
+God, how she starts!
+And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand!
+And again at me!
+I turn and run
+Down the Embankment, run for my life.
+
+But why?--why?
+
+Because of my heart's
+Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand
+In the street spilled over splendidly
+With wet, flat lights. What I've done
+I know not, my soul is in strife.
+
+The touch was on the quick. I want to forget.
+
+
+PHANTASMAGORIA
+
+RIGID sleeps the house in darkness, I alone
+Like a thing unwarrantable cross the hall
+And climb the stairs to find the group of doors
+Standing angel-stern and tall.
+
+I want my own room's shelter. But what is this
+Throng of startled beings suddenly thrown
+In confusion against my entry? Is it only the trees'
+Large shadows from the outside street lamp blown?
+
+Phantom to phantom leaning; strange women weep
+Aloud, suddenly on my mind
+Startling a fear unspeakable, as the shuddering wind
+Breaks and sobs in the blind.
+
+So like to women, tall strange women weeping!
+Why continually do they cross the bed?
+Why does my soul contract with unnatural fear?
+I am listening! Is anything said?
+
+Ever the long black figures swoop by the bed;
+They seem to be beckoning, rushing away, and
+    beckoning.
+Whither then, whither, what is it, say
+What is the reckoning.
+
+Tall black Bacchae of midnight, why then, why
+Do you rush to assail me?
+Do I intrude on your rites nocturnal?
+What should it avail me?
+
+Is there some great Iacchos of these slopes
+Suburban dismal?
+Have I profaned some female mystery, orgies
+Black and phantasmal?
+
+
+NEXT MORNING
+
+How have I wandered here to this vaulted room
+In the house of life?--the floor was ruffled with gold
+Last evening, and she who was softly in bloom,
+Glimmered as flowers that in perfume at twilight
+    unfold
+
+For the flush of the night; whereas now the gloom
+Of every dirty, must-besprinkled mould,
+And damp old web of misery's heirloom
+Deadens this day's grey-dropping arras-fold.
+
+And what is this that floats on the undermist
+Of the mirror towards the dusty grate, as if feeling
+Unsightly its way to the warmth?--this thing with
+    a list
+To the left? this ghost like a candle swealing?
+
+Pale-blurred, with two round black drops, as if it
+    missed
+Itself among everything else, here hungrily stealing
+Upon me!--my own reflection!--explicit gist
+Of my presence there in the mirror that leans from
+    the ceiling!
+
+Then will somebody square this shade with the
+    being I know
+I was last night, when my soul rang clear as a bell
+And happy as rain in summer? Why should it be
+    so?
+What is there gone against me, why am I in hell?
+
+
+PALIMPSEST OF TWILIGHT
+
+DARKNESS comes out of the earth
+  And swallows dip into the pallor of the west;
+From the hay comes the clamour of children's
+     mirth;
+Wanes the old palimpsest.
+
+The night-stock oozes scent,
+  And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by:
+All that the worldly day has meant
+  Wastes like a lie.
+
+The children have forsaken their play;
+  A single star in a veil of light
+Glimmers: litter of day
+  Is gone from sight.
+
+
+EMBANKMENT AT NIGHT,
+BEFORE THE WAR
+
+_Outcasts_.
+
+THE night rain, dripping unseen,
+Comes endlessly kissing my face and my hands.
+
+The river, slipping between
+Lamps, is rayed with golden bands
+Half way down its heaving sides;
+Revealed where it hides.
+
+Under the bridge
+Great electric cars
+Sing through, and each with a floor-light racing
+    along at its side.
+Far off, oh, midge after midge
+Drifts over the gulf that bars
+The night with silence, crossing the lamp-touched
+    tide.
+
+At Charing Cross, here, beneath the bridge
+Sleep in a row the outcasts,
+Packed in a line with their heads against the wall.
+Their feet, in a broken ridge
+Stretch out on the way, and a lout casts
+A look as he stands on the edge of this naked stall.
+
+Beasts that sleep will cover
+Their faces in their flank; so these
+Have huddled rags or limbs on the naked sleep.
+Save, as the tram-cars hover
+Past with the noise of a breeze
+And gleam as of sunshine crossing the low black heap,
+
+Two naked faces are seen
+Bare and asleep,
+Two pale clots swept and swept by the light of the
+    cars.
+Foam-clots showing between
+The long, low tidal-heap,
+The mud-weed opening two pale, shadowless stars.
+
+Over the pallor of only two faces
+Passes the gallivant beam of the trams;
+Shows in only two sad places
+The white bare bone of our shams.
+
+A little, bearded man, pale, peaked in sleeping,
+With a face like a chickweed flower.
+And a heavy woman, sleeping still keeping
+Callous and dour.
+
+Over the pallor of only two places
+Tossed on the low, black, ruffled heap
+Passes the light of the tram as it races
+Out of the deep.
+
+Eloquent limbs
+In disarray
+Sleep-suave limbs of a youth with long, smooth
+    thighs
+Hutched up for warmth; the muddy rims
+Of trousers fray
+On the thin bare shins of a man who uneasily lies.
+
+The balls of five red toes
+As red and dirty, bare
+Young birds forsaken and left in a nest of mud--
+Newspaper sheets enclose
+Some limbs like parcels, and tear
+When the sleeper stirs or turns on the ebb of the
+    flood--
+
+One heaped mound
+Of a woman's knees
+As she thrusts them upward under the ruffled skirt--
+And a curious dearth of sound
+In the presence of these
+Wastrels that sleep on the flagstones without any
+    hurt.
+
+Over two shadowless, shameless faces
+Stark on the heap
+Travels the light as it tilts in its paces
+Gone in one leap.
+
+At the feet of the sleepers, watching,
+Stand those that wait
+For a place to lie down; and still as they stand,
+    they sleep,
+Wearily catching
+The flood's slow gait
+Like men who are drowned, but float erect in the
+    deep.
+
+Oh, the singing mansions,
+Golden-lighted tall
+Trams that pass, blown ruddily down the night!
+The bridge on its stanchions
+Stoops like a pall
+To this human blight.
+
+On the outer pavement, slowly,
+Theatre people pass,
+Holding aloft their umbrellas that flash and are
+    bright
+Like flowers of infernal moly
+Over nocturnal grass
+Wetly bobbing and drifting away on our sight.
+
+And still by the rotten
+Row of shattered feet,
+Outcasts keep guard.
+Forgotten,
+Forgetting, till fate shall delete
+One from the ward.
+
+The factories on the Surrey side
+Are beautifully laid in black on a gold-grey sky.
+The river's invisible tide
+Threads and thrills like ore that is wealth to the eye.
+
+And great gold midges
+Cross the chasm
+At the bridges
+Above intertwined plasm.
+
+
+WINTER IN THE BOULEVARD
+
+THE frost has settled down upon the trees
+And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies
+Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old
+Romantic stories now no more to be told.
+
+The trees down the boulevard stand naked in
+    thought,
+Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught
+In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront
+Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt.
+
+Has some hand balanced more leaves in the depths
+    of the twigs?
+Some dim little efforts placed in the threads of the
+    birch?--
+It is only the sparrows, like dead black leaves on
+    the sprigs,
+Sitting huddled against the cerulean, one flesh with
+    their perch.
+
+The clear, cold sky coldly bethinks itself.
+Like vivid thought the air spins bright, and all
+Trees, birds, and earth, arrested in the after-thought
+Awaiting the sentence out from the welkin brought.
+
+
+SCHOOL ON THE OUTSKIRTS
+
+How different, in the middle of snows, the great
+     school rises red!
+  A red rock silent and shadowless, clung round
+     with clusters of shouting lads,
+Some few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that
+     cling as the souls of the dead
+  In stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate
+     dark monads.
+
+This new red rock in a waste of white rises against
+     the day
+  With shelter now, and with blandishment, since
+     the winds have had their way
+And laid the desert horrific of silence and snow on
+     the world of mankind,
+  School now is the rock in this weary land the winter
+     burns and makes blind.
+
+
+SICKNESS
+
+WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark,
+Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the
+    bark
+Of my body slowly behind.
+
+Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night
+Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if
+    in their flight
+My hands should touch the door!
+
+What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door
+Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet,
+    before
+I can draw back!
+
+What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide
+And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone
+    down the tide
+Of eternal hereafter!
+
+Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts.
+Take them away from their venture, before fate
+    wrests
+The meaning out of them.
+
+
+EVERLASTING FLOWERS
+
+WHO do you think stands watching
+  The snow-tops shining rosy
+In heaven, now that the darkness
+  Takes all but the tallest posy?
+
+Who then sees the two-winged
+  Boat down there, all alone
+And asleep on the snow's last shadow,
+  Like a moth on a stone?
+
+The olive-leaves, light as gad-flies,
+  Have all gone dark, gone black.
+And now in the dark my soul to you
+  Turns back.
+
+To you, my little darling,
+  To you, out of Italy.
+For what is loveliness, my love,
+  Save you have it with me!
+
+So, there's an oxen wagon
+  Comes darkly into sight:
+A man with a lantern, swinging
+  A little light.
+
+What does he see, my darling
+  Here by the darkened lake?
+Here, in the sloping shadow
+  The mountains make?
+
+He says not a word, but passes,
+  Staring at what he sees.
+What ghost of us both do you think he saw
+  Under the olive trees?
+
+All the things that are lovely--
+  The things you never knew--
+I wanted to gather them one by one
+  And bring them to you.
+
+But never now, my darling
+  Can I gather the mountain-tips
+From the twilight like half-shut lilies
+  To hold to your lips.
+
+And never the two-winged vessel
+  That sleeps below on the lake
+Can I catch like a moth between my hands
+  For you to take.
+
+But hush, I am not regretting:
+  It is far more perfect now.
+I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world
+  And tell them how
+
+I know you here in the darkness,
+  How you sit in the throne of my eyes
+At peace, and look out of the windows
+  In glad surprise.
+
+
+THE NORTH COUNTRY
+
+IN another country, black poplars shake them-
+    selves over a pond,
+And rooks and the rising smoke-waves scatter and
+    wheel from the works beyond;
+The air is dark with north and with sulphur, the
+    grass is a darker green,
+And people darkly invested with purple move
+   palpable through the scene.
+
+Soundlessly down across the counties, out of the
+    resonant gloom
+That wraps the north in stupor and purple travels
+    the deep, slow boom
+Of the man-life north-imprisoned, shut in the hum
+    of the purpled steel
+As it spins to sleep on its motion, drugged dense in
+    the sleep of the wheel.
+
+Out of the sleep, from the gloom of motion, sound-
+    lessly, somnambule
+Moans and booms the soul of a people imprisoned,
+    asleep in the rule
+Of the strong machine that runs mesmeric, booming
+    the spell of its word
+Upon them and moving them helpless, mechanic,
+    their will to its will deferred.
+
+Yet all the while comes the droning inaudible, out
+    of the violet air,
+The moaning of sleep-bound beings in travail that
+    toil and are will-less there
+In the spell-bound north, convulsive now with a
+    dream near morning, strong
+With violent achings heaving to burst the sleep
+    that is now not long.
+
+
+BITTERNESS OF DEATH
+
+I
+
+AH, stern, cold man,
+How can you lie so relentless hard
+While I wash you with weeping water!
+Do you set your face against the daughter
+Of life? Can you never discard
+Your curt pride's ban?
+
+You masquerader!
+How can you shame to act this part
+Of unswerving indifference to me?
+You want at last, ah me!
+To break my heart
+Evader!
+
+You know your mouth
+Was always sooner to soften
+Even than your eyes.
+Now shut it lies
+Relentless, however often
+I kiss it in drouth.
+
+It has no breath
+Nor any relaxing. Where,
+Where are you, what have you done?
+What is this mouth of stone?
+How did you dare
+Take cover in death!
+
+II
+
+Once you could see,
+The white moon show like a breast revealed
+By the slipping shawl of stars.
+Could see the small stars tremble
+As the heart beneath did wield
+Systole, diastole.
+
+All the lovely macrocosm
+Was woman once to you,
+Bride to your groom.
+No tree in bloom
+But it leaned you a new
+White bosom.
+
+And always and ever
+Soft as a summering tree
+Unfolds from the sky, for your good,
+Unfolded womanhood;
+Shedding you down as a tree
+Sheds its flowers on a river.
+
+I saw your brows
+Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom,
+And I shed my very soul down into your
+   thought;
+Like flowers I fell, to be caught
+On the comforted pool, like bloom
+That leaves the boughs.
+
+III
+
+Oh, masquerader,
+With a hard face white-enamelled,
+What are you now?
+Do you care no longer how
+My heart is trammelled,
+Evader?
+
+Is this you, after all,
+Metallic, obdurate
+With bowels of steel?
+Did you _never_ feel?--
+Cold, insensate,
+Mechanical!
+
+Ah, no!--you multiform,
+You that I loved, you wonderful,
+You who darkened and shone,
+You were many men in one;
+But never this null
+This never-warm!
+
+Is this the sum of you?
+Is it all nought?
+Cold, metal-cold?
+Are you all told
+Here, iron-wrought?
+Is _this_ what's become of you?
+
+
+SEVEN SEALS
+
+SINCE this is the last night I keep you home,
+Come, I will consecrate you for the journey.
+
+Rather I had you would not go. Nay come,
+I will not again reproach you. Lie back
+And let me love you a long time ere you go.
+For you are sullen-hearted still, and lack
+The will to love me. But even so
+I will set a seal upon you from my lip,
+Will set a guard of honour at each door,
+Seal up each channel out of which might slip
+Your love for me.
+
+                 I kiss your mouth. Ah, love,
+Could I but seal its ruddy, shining spring
+Of passion, parch it up, destroy, remove
+Its softly-stirring crimson welling-up
+Of kisses! Oh, help me, God! Here at the source
+I'd lie for ever drinking and drawing in
+Your fountains, as heaven drinks from out their
+    course
+The floods.
+
+                 I close your ears with kisses
+And seal your nostrils; and round your neck you'll
+    wear--
+Nay, let me work--a delicate chain of kisses.
+Like beads they go around, and not one misses
+To touch its fellow on either side.
+
+                 And there
+Full mid-between the champaign of your breast
+I place a great and burning seal of love
+Like a dark rose, a mystery of rest
+On the slow bubbling of your rhythmic heart.
+
+Nay, I persist, and very faith shall keep
+You integral to me. Each door, each mystic port
+Of egress from you I will seal and steep
+In perfect chrism.
+          Now it is done. The mort
+Will sound in heaven before it is undone.
+
+But let me finish what I have begun
+And shirt you now invulnerable in the mail
+Of iron kisses, kisses linked like steel.
+Put greaves upon your thighs and knees, and frail
+Webbing of steel on your feet. So you shall feel
+Ensheathed invulnerable with me, with seven
+Great seals upon your outgoings, and woven
+Chain of my mystic will wrapped perfectly
+Upon you, wrapped in indomitable me.
+
+
+READING A LETTER
+
+SHE sits on the recreation ground
+  Under an oak whose yellow buds dot the pale
+     blue sky.
+The young grass twinkles in the wind, and the sound
+  Of the wind in the knotted buds in a canopy.
+
+So sitting under the knotted canopy
+  Of the wind, she is lifted and carried away as in
+    a balloon
+Across the insensible void, till she stoops to see
+  The sandy desert beneath her, the dreary platoon.
+
+She knows the waste all dry beneath her, in one
+     place
+  Stirring with earth-coloured life, ever turning and
+     stirring.
+But never the motion has a human face
+  Nor sound, save intermittent machinery whirring.
+
+And so again, on the recreation ground
+  She alights a stranger, wondering, unused to the
+     scene;
+Suffering at sight of the children playing around,
+  Hurt at the chalk-coloured tulips, and the even-
+     ing-green.
+
+
+TWENTY YEARS AGO
+
+ROUND the house were lilacs and strawberries
+  And foal-foots spangling the paths,
+And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries
+  Caught dust from the sea's long swaths.
+
+Up the wolds the woods were walking,
+  And nuts fell out of their hair.
+At the gate the nets hung, balking
+  The star-lit rush of a hare.
+
+In the autumn fields, the stubble
+  Tinkled the music of gleaning.
+At a mother's knees, the trouble
+  Lost all its meaning.
+
+Yea, what good beginnings
+  To this sad end!
+Have we had our innings?
+  God forfend!
+
+
+INTIME
+
+RETURNING, I find her just the same,
+At just the same old delicate game.
+
+Still she says: "Nay, loose no flame
+To lick me up and do me harm!
+Be all yourself!--for oh, the charm
+Of your heart of fire in which I look!
+Oh, better there than in any book
+Glow and enact the dramas and dreams
+I love for ever!--there it seems
+You are lovelier than life itself, till desire
+Comes licking through the bars of your lips
+And over my face the stray fire slips,
+Leaving a burn and an ugly smart
+That will have the oil of illusion. Oh, heart
+Of fire and beauty, loose no more
+Your reptile flames of lust; ah, store
+Your passion in the basket of your soul,
+Be all yourself, one bonny, burning coal
+That stays with steady joy of its own fire.
+But do not seek to take me by desire.
+Oh, do not seek to thrust on me your fire!
+For in the firing all my porcelain
+Of flesh does crackle and shiver and break in pain,
+My ivory and marble black with stain,
+My veil of sensitive mystery rent in twain,
+My altars sullied, I, bereft, remain
+A priestess execrable, taken in vain--"
+
+                         So the refrain
+Sings itself over, and so the game
+Re-starts itself wherein I am kept
+Like a glowing brazier faintly blue of flame
+So that the delicate love-adept
+Can warm her hands and invite her soul,
+Sprinkling incense and salt of words
+And kisses pale, and sipping the toll
+Of incense-smoke that rises like birds.
+
+Yet I've forgotten in playing this game,
+Things I have known that shall have no name;
+Forgetting the place from which I came
+I watch her ward away the flame,
+Yet warm herself at the fire--then blame
+Me that I flicker in the basket;
+Me that I glow not with content
+To have my substance so subtly spent;
+Me that I interrupt her game.
+I ought to be proud that she should ask it
+Of me to be her fire-opal--.
+
+                         It is well
+Since I am here for so short a spell
+Not to interrupt her?--Why should I
+Break in by making any reply!
+
+
+TWO WIVES
+
+I
+
+INTO the shadow-white chamber silts the white
+Flux of another dawn. The wind that all night
+Long has waited restless, suddenly wafts
+A whirl like snow from the plum-trees and the pear,
+Till petals heaped between the window-shafts
+            In a drift die there.
+
+A nurse in white, at the dawning, flower-foamed
+   pane
+Draws down the blinds, whose shadows scarcely
+   stain
+The white rugs on the floor, nor the silent bed
+That rides the room like a frozen berg, its crest
+Finally ridged with the austere line of the dead
+            Stretched out at rest.
+
+Less than a year the fourfold feet had pressed
+The peaceful floor, when fell the sword on their rest.
+Yet soon, too soon, she had him home again
+With wounds between them, and suffering like a
+   guest
+That will not go. Now suddenly going, the pain
+            Leaves an empty breast.
+
+II
+
+A tall woman, with her long white gown aflow
+As she strode her limbs amongst it, once more
+She hastened towards the room. Did she know
+As she listened in silence outside the silent door?
+Entering, she saw him in outline, raised on a pyre
+            Awaiting the fire.
+
+Upraised on the bed, with feet erect as a bow,
+Like the prow of a boat, his head laid back like the
+   stern
+Of a ship that stands in a shadowy sea of snow
+With frozen rigging, she saw him; she drooped like
+   a fern
+Refolding, she slipped to the floor as a ghost-white
+   peony slips
+            When the thread clips.
+
+Soft she lay as a shed flower fallen, nor heard
+The ominous entry, nor saw the other love,
+The dark, the grave-eyed mistress who thus dared
+At such an hour to lay her claim, above
+A stricken wife, so sunk in oblivion, bowed
+            With misery, no more proud.
+
+III
+
+The stranger's hair was shorn like a lad's dark poll
+And pale her ivory face: her eyes would fail
+In silence when she looked: for all the whole
+Darkness of failure was in them, without avail.
+Dark in indomitable failure, she who had lost
+            Now claimed the host,
+
+She softly passed the sorrowful flower shed
+In blonde and white on the floor, nor even turned
+Her head aside, but straight towards the bed
+Moved with slow feet, and her eyes' flame steadily
+   burned.
+She looked at him as he lay with banded cheek,
+            And she started to speak
+
+Softly: "I knew it would come to this," she said,
+"I knew that some day, soon, I should find you thus.
+So I did not fight you. You went your way instead
+Of coming mine--and of the two of us
+I died the first, I, in the after-life
+            Am now your wife."
+
+IV
+
+"'Twas I whose fingers did draw up the young
+Plant of your body: to me you looked e'er sprung
+The secret of the moon within your eyes!
+My mouth you met before your fine red mouth
+Was set to song--and never your song denies
+            My love, till you went south."
+
+"'Twas I who placed the bloom of manhood on
+Your youthful smoothness: I fleeced where fleece
+   was none
+Your fervent limbs with flickers and tendrils of new
+Knowledge; I set your heart to its stronger beat;
+I put my strength upon you, and I threw
+            My life at your feet."
+
+"But I whom the years had reared to be your bride,
+Who for years was sun for your shivering, shade for
+   your sweat,
+Who for one strange year was as a bride to you--you
+   set me aside
+With all the old, sweet things of our youth;--and
+   never yet
+Have I ceased to grieve that I was not great enough
+            To defeat your baser stuff."
+
+V
+
+"But you are given back again to me
+Who have kept intact for you your virginity.
+Who for the rest of life walk out of care,
+Indifferent here of myself, since I am gone
+Where you are gone, and you and I out there
+            Walk now as one."
+
+"Your widow am I, and only I. I dream
+God bows his head and grants me this supreme
+Pure look of your last dead face, whence now is gone
+The mobility, the panther's gambolling,
+And all your being is given to me, so none
+            Can mock my struggling."
+
+"And now at last I kiss your perfect face,
+Perfecting now our unfinished, first embrace.
+Your young hushed look that then saw God ablaze
+In every bush, is given you back, and we
+Are met at length to finish our rest of days
+            In a unity."
+
+
+HEIMWEH
+
+FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the
+    garden at home.
+Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle
+    would tread them out in the loam.
+I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave,
+    and burst
+The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from
+    the hearth at which I was nursed.
+
+It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and
+    inviolate peace,
+The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my
+    fate and my old increase.
+And now that the skies are falling, the world is
+    spouting in fountains of dirt,
+I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with
+    me, go with me, both in one hurt.
+
+
+DEBACLE
+
+THE trees in trouble because of autumn,
+  And scarlet berries falling from the bush,
+And all the myriad houseless seeds
+  Loosing hold in the wind's insistent push
+
+Moan softly with autumnal parturition,
+  Poor, obscure fruits extruded out of light
+Into the world of shadow, carried down
+  Between the bitter knees of the after-night.
+
+Bushed in an uncouth ardour, coiled at core
+  With a knot of life that only bliss can unravel,
+Fall all the fruits most bitterly into earth
+  Bitterly into corrosion bitterly travel.
+
+What is it internecine that is locked,
+  By very fierceness into a quiescence
+Within the rage? We shall not know till it burst
+  Out of corrosion into new florescence.
+
+Nay, but how tortured is the frightful seed
+  The spark intense within it, all without
+Mordant corrosion gnashing and champing hard
+  For ruin on the naked small redoubt.
+
+Bitter, to fold the issue, and make no sally;
+  To have the mystery, but not go forth;
+To bear, but retaliate nothing, given to save
+  The spark in storms of corrosion, as seeds from
+     the north.
+
+The sharper, more horrid the pressure, the harder
+     the heart
+  That saves the blue grain of eternal fire
+Within its quick, committed to hold and wait
+  And suffer unheeding, only forbidden to expire.
+
+
+NARCISSUS
+
+WHERE the minnows trace
+A glinting web quick hid in the gloom of the brook,
+When I think of the place
+And remember the small lad lying intent to look
+Through the shadowy face
+At the little fish thread-threading the watery nook--
+
+It seems to me
+The woman you are should be nixie, there is a pool
+Where we ought to be.
+You undine-clear and pearly, soullessly cool
+And waterly
+The pool for my limbs to fathom, my soul's last
+    school.
+
+Narcissus
+Ventured so long ago in the deeps of reflection.
+Illyssus
+Broke the bounds and beyond!--Dim recollection
+Of fishes
+Soundlessly moving in heaven's other direction!
+
+Be
+Undine towards the waters, moving back;
+For me
+A pool! Put off the soul you've got, oh lack
+Your human self immortal; take the watery track.
+
+
+AUTUMN SUNSHINE
+
+THE sun sets out the autumn crocuses
+  And fills them up a pouring measure
+  Of death-producing wine, till treasure
+Runs waste down their chalices.
+
+All, all Persephone's pale cups of mould
+  Are on the board, are over-filled;
+  The portion to the gods is spilled;
+Now, mortals all, take hold!
+
+The time is now, the wine-cup full and full
+  Of lambent heaven, a pledging-cup;
+  Let now all mortal men take up
+The drink, and a long, strong pull.
+
+Out of the hell-queen's cup, the heaven's pale wine--
+  Drink then, invisible heroes, drink.
+  Lips to the vessels, never shrink,
+Throats to the heavens incline.
+
+And take within the wine the god's great oath
+  By heaven and earth and hellish stream
+  To break this sick and nauseous dream
+We writhe and lust in, both.
+
+Swear, in the pale wine poured from the cups of the
+       queen
+  Of hell, to wake and be free
+  From this nightmare we writhe in,
+Break out of this foul has-been.
+
+
+ON THAT DAY
+
+   ON that day
+I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave
+With multitude of white roses: and since you were
+      brave
+   One bright red ray.
+
+   So people, passing under
+The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise
+Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in
+      wonder,
+   Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder
+
+   To see whose praise
+Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red.
+Then they will say: "'Tis long since she is dead,
+   Who has remembered her after many days?"
+
+   And standing there
+They will consider how you went your ways
+Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the
+      maze
+   Of this earthly affair.
+
+   A queen, they'll say,
+Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill.
+Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until
+   Dawns my insurgent day.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New Poems, by D. H. Lawrence
+
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