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1885–1930

II

David Herbert Lawrence

Once you could see, The white moon show like a breast revealed By the slipping shawl of stars. Could see the small stars tremble

As the heart beneath did wield Systole, diastole. All the lovely macrocosm Was woman once to you,

Bride to your groom. No tree in bloom But it leaned you a new White bosom.

And always and ever Soft as a summering tree Unfolds from the sky, for your good, Unfolded womanhood;

Shedding you down as a tree Sheds its flowers on a river. I saw your brows Set like rocks beside a sea of gloom,

And I shed my very soul down into your thought; Like flowers I fell, to be caught On the comforted pool, like bloom That leaves the boughs.

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II · David Herbert Lawrence · Poetry Cove