Lilies in the Fire, by D. H. Lawrence
I Ah, you stack of white lilies, all white a...
I Ah, you stack of white lilies, all white a...
I LISTEN to the stillness of you,
My dear, a...
MANY roses in the wind
Are tapping at the wind...
THE sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie pro...
ROUND clouds roll in the arms of the wind,
Th...
The train in running across the weald has falle...
A FAINT, sickening scent of irises
Persists a...
THE cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling...
SHE bade me follow to her garden, where
The m...
When the autumn roses
Are heavy with dew,
Be...
I WILL give you all my keys,
You shall be my ...
THE quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leapin...
THE honey-gilded summer loud with bees,
Perfu...
Who can make a delicate adventure
Of walking o...
Undistinguished butter-cup
Lost among myriads ...
Aimless petal of the wind,
Spinning gently we...
Hornè d Toad of cloven brown,
Rock sou...
A man is sitting within the enigmatic turmoil o...
I Pretend that night is grandiose,
That star...
Gingerly, the poets sit.
Gingerly, they spen...
DEATH,
Grandiosely hackneyed subject,
I liv...
A negro girl with skin
As black as a psychic t...
RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN
Every night the sky grip...
Rounded to a wide eyed clownishness
Crowned by...
August sauntered down the mountain-side,
Drop...