David Herbert Lawrence Poems

Poems » david herbert lawrence

David Herbert Lawrence
David Herbert Richards Lawrence (11 September 1885 2 March 1930) was an important and controversial English writer of the 20th century, whose prolific and diverse output included novels, short stories, poems, plays, essays, travel books, paintings, translations, literary criticism, and personal letters. His collected works represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanizing effects of modernity and industrialisation. In them, Lawrence confronts issues relating to emotional health and vitality, spontaneity, sexuality, and instinctive behaviour. Lawrence's unsettling opinions earned him many enemies and he endured hardships, 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 influential Cambridge critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness, placing much of Lawrence's fiction within the canonical "great tradition" of the English novel. He is now generally valued as a visionary thinker and a significant representative of modernism in English literature, although some feminists object to the attitudes toward women and sexuality found in his works.

the suicide
 
 
And this, ladies and gentlemen, whom I am not in fact
Conducting, was his office all those minu... [read poem]
house on a cliff
 
 
Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp. Outdoors
The winking signal on the waste of sea.
Indo... [read poem]
snow
 
 
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it... [read poem]
bagpipe music
 
 
It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket f... [read poem]
almond blossom
 
 
Even iron can put forth,
Even iron.

This is the iron age,
But let us take hear... [read poem]
the sunlight on the garden
 
 
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within i... [read poem]
meeting point
 
 
Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people wit... [read poem]
dublin
 
 
Grey brick upon brick,
Declamatory bronze
On sombre pedestals -
O'Connell, Grattan, M... [read poem]
Continue in Richard Harris Barham »»»

Page 1 of 1