“Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say and say it hot.” – D. H. Lawrence
David Herbert Lawrence, novelist,
short-story writer, poet, and essayist, was born in England in early September 1885.
Though better known as a novelist, Lawrence's first-published works (in 1909)
were poems, and his poetry, especially his evocations of the natural world,
have since had a significant influence on many poets on both sides of the
Atlantic. 
For Saturday’s Poem, here is
Lawrence’s,
Trees in the Garden
Ah in the thunder air
the trees are!
And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf
silent
hardly looses even a last breath of perfume.
And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of
leaves
white, ivory white among the rambling greens
evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates
on the green grass
as if, in another moment, she would disappear
with all her grace of foam!
And the larch that is only a column, it goes up
too tall to see:
and the balsam-pines that are blue with the grey-
blue blueness of
things from the sea,
and the young copper beech, its leaves red-rosy
at the ends
how still they are together, they stand so still
in the thunder air, all strangers to one another
as the green grass glows upwards, strangers in
the silent garden.
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