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D. H. Lawrence

D. H. Lawrence

Dreams

All people dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.
 
But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.

#English Modern

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Other works by D. H. Lawrence...
Conceit

It is conceit that kills us and makes us cowards instead of go… Under the great Command: Know thy… we have become fatally self—consci… Now we have to admit we can’t know…
Listening

I listen to the stillness of you, My dear, among it all; I feel your silence touch my words… And take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge
Sigh No More

THE cuckoo and the coo-dove’s cea… Calling, Of a meaningless monotony is palli… All my morning’s pleasure in the s… May-blossom and blue bird’s-eye fl…
Under the Oak

You, if you were sensible, When I tell you the stars flash s… You would not turn and answer me “The night is wonderful.” Even you, if you knew
Snake

A snake came to my water—trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjam… To drink there. In the deep, strange—scented shade… I came down the steps with my pitc…
Tarentella

SAD as he sits on the white sea-s… And the suave sea chuckles, and tu… And the moon significant smiles at… He sits like a shade by the flood… While I dance a tarantella on the…
Ballad of Another Ophelia

Oh the green glimmer of apples in… Lamps in a wash of rain! Oh the wet walk of my brown hen th… Oh tears on the window pane! Nothing now will ripen the bright…
Winter in the Boulevard

The frost has settled down upon th… And ruthlessly strangled off the f… Of leaves that have gone unnoticed… Romantic stories now no more to be… The trees down the boulevard stand…
Week-Night Service

The five old bells Are hurrying and eagerly calling, Imploring, protesting They know, but clamorously falling Into gabbling incoherence, never r…
A Baby Running Barefoot

When the bare feet of the baby bea… The little white feet nod like whi… They poise and run like ripples la… And the sight of their white play… Is like a little robin’s song, win…
Thought

Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting… I despise that self—important game… Thought is the welling up of unkno… Thought is the testing of statemen…
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Scent of Irises

A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a j… A fine proud spike of purple irise… Rising above the class—room litter… To see the class’s lifted and bend…
The Punisher

I have fetched the tears up out of… Scooped them up with small, iron w… Dripping over the runnels. The harsh, cold wind of my words d… I watched the tears on the guilty…
Dreams Nascent

My world is a painted fresco, wher… Of old, ineffectual lives linger b… An endless tapestry the past has w… The halls of my life, compelling m… The surface of dreams is broken,
The Deepest Sensuality

The profoundest of all sensualitie… is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual exper… is the sense of justice.
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