Amores, poems

By D H Lawrence

Amores, poems - is a great collection of poems by D.H. Lawrence, one of best writers of all-time. Amores is earliest works of poetry, was a precursor to his delving in free verse in later collections. The poems in this collection are characterized by haunting and dark themes, sensuousness and his controversial dealing with sexual topics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glagoslav Publications (NC)
• Release date: Jul 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781784220655

D H Lawrence

David Herbert Lawrence, (185-1930) more commonly known as D.H Lawrence was a British writer and poet often surrounded by controversy. His works explored issues of sexuality, emotional health, masculinity, and reflected on the dehumanizing effects of industrialization. Lawrence’s opinions acquired him many enemies, censorship, and prosecution. Because of this, he lived the majority of his second half of life in a self-imposed exile. Despite the controversy and criticism, he posthumously was championed for his artistic integrity and moral severity.

Book preview

AMORES

POEMS

D. H. Lawrence

Glagoslav Epublications

AMORES. POEMS 

D. H. Lawrence

© 2020, Glagoslav Epublications

ISBN:  978-1-78422-065-5 (Ebook)

This ebook is in copyright. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Contents

About the Author

TEASE

THE WILD COMMON

STUDY

DISCORD IN CHILDHOOD

VIRGIN YOUTH

MONOLOGUE OF A MOTHER

IN A BOAT

WEEK-NIGHT SERVICE

IRONY

DREAMS OLD AND NASCENT

DREAMS OLD AND NASCENT

A WINTER'S TALE

EPILOGUE

A BABY RUNNING BAREFOOT

DISCIPLINE

SCENT OF IRISES

THE PROPHET

LAST WORDS TO MIRIAM

MYSTERY

PATIENCE

BALLAD OF ANOTHER OPHELIA

RESTLESSNESS

A BABY ASLEEP AFTER PAIN

ANXIETY

THE PUNISHER

THE END

THE BRIDE

THE VIRGIN MOTHER

AT THE WINDOW

DRUNK

SORROW

DOLOR OF AUTUMN

THE INHERITANCE

SILENCE

LISTENING

BROODING GRIEF

LOTUS HURT BY THE COLD

MALADE

LIAISON

TROTH WITH THE DEAD

DISSOLUTE

SUBMERGENCE

THE ENKINDLED SPRING

REPROACH

THE HANDS OF THE BETROTHED

EXCURSION

PERFIDY

A SPIRITUAL WOMAN

MATING

A LOVE SONG

BROTHER AND SISTER

AFTER MANY DAYS

BLUE

SNAP-DRAGON

A PASSING BELL

IN TROUBLE AND SHAME

ELEGY

GREY EVENING

FIRELIGHT AND NIGHTFALL

THE MYSTIC BLUE

About the Author

David Herbert Lawrence (1885 – 1930) was an English writer and poet. His collected works represent, among other things, an extended reflection upon the dehumanising effects of modernity and industrialisation. Lawrence's writing explores issues such as sexuality, emotional health, vitality, spontaneity, and instinct.

Lawrence's opinions earned him many enemies and he endured official persecution, censorship, and misrepresentation of his creative work throughout the second half of his life, much of which he spent in a voluntary exile he called his savage pilgrimage.

At the time of his death, his public reputation was that of a pornographer who had wasted his considerable talents. E. M. Forster, in an obituary notice, challenged this widely held view, describing him as the greatest imaginative novelist of our generation. Later, the literary critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness.

TEASE

I WILL give you all my keys,

You shall be my châtelaine,

You shall enter as you please,

As you please shall go again.

---

When I hear you jingling through

All the chambers of my soul,

How I sit and laugh at you

In your vain housekeeping rôle.

---

Jealous of the smallest cover,

Angry at the simplest door;

Well, you anxious, inquisitive lover,

Are you pleased with what's in store?

---

You have fingered all my treasures,

Have you not, most curiously,

Handled all my tools and measures

And masculine machinery?

---

Over every single beauty

You have had your little rapture;

You have slain, as was your duty,

Every sin-mouse you could capture.

---

Still you are not satisfied,

Still you tremble faint reproach;

Challenge me I keep aside

Secrets that you may not broach.

---

Maybe yes, and maybe no,

Maybe there are secret places,

Altars barbarous below,

Elsewhere halls of high disgraces.

---

Maybe yes, and maybe no,

You may have it as you please,

Since I choose to keep you so,

Suppliant on your curious knees.

THE WILD COMMON

THE quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping,

Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame;

Above them, exultant, the pee-wits are sweeping:

They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness

their screamings proclaim.

---

Rabbits, handfuls of