“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 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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