Sorrow
D. H. Lawrence
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand; When I carried my mother downstairs, A few times only, at the beginning Of her soft-foot malady, I should find, for a reprimand To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs On the breast of my coat; and one by one I let them float up the dark chimney.
Next 10 Poems
- D. H. Lawrence : Study
- D. H. Lawrence : Submergence
- D. H. Lawrence : Suburbs On A Hazy Day
- D. H. Lawrence : Tarantella
- D. H. Lawrence : Tease
- D. H. Lawrence : The Bride
- D. H. Lawrence : The Deepest Sensuality
- D. H. Lawrence : The Elephant Is Slow To Mate
- D. H. Lawrence : The End
- D. H. Lawrence : The Enkindled Spring
Previous 10 Poems
- D. H. Lawrence : Snap-dragon
- D. H. Lawrence : Snake
- D. H. Lawrence : Silence
- D. H. Lawrence : Sigh No More
- D. H. Lawrence : Sickness
- D. H. Lawrence : Seven Seals
- D. H. Lawrence : Service Of All The Dead
- D. H. Lawrence : Self-pity
- D. H. Lawrence : Search For Truth
- D. H. Lawrence : School On The Outskirts
