Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | December 17, 2008

POEM OF THE DAY: A Winter’s Tale

D.H. Lawrence (1885 – 1930).

 

A Winter’s Tale

 

Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow,

And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge;

Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go

On towards the pines at the hills’ white verge.

 

I cannot see her, since the mist’s white scarf                                            5

Obscures the dark wood and the dull orange sky;

But she’s waiting, I know, impatient and cold, half

Sobs struggling into her frosty sigh.

 

Why does she come so promptly, when she must know

That she’s only the nearer to the inevitable farewell;                          10

The hill is steep, on the snow my steps are slow–

Why does she come, when she knows what I have to tell?

 

Notes:

http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/dhlawren.htm

http://web.ukonline.co.uk/rananim/lawrence/


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