The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence. D. H. Lawrence
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Название: The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence

Автор: D. H. Lawrence

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4064066052133

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ 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

       Table of Contents

      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

       Table of Contents

      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,

       СКАЧАТЬ