Look! We Have Come Through!

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Title: Look! We Have Come Through!
Author: D. H. Lawrence
Release Date: November 7, 2007 [eBook #23394]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOOK! WE HAVE COME THROUGH!***
E-text prepared by Lewis Jones
LOOK! WE HAVE COME THROUGH!
by
D. H. LAWRENCE
Published by Chatto & Windus?London MCMXVII
Some of these poems have appeared in?the "English Review" and in "Poetry,"?also in the "Georgian Anthology" and?the "Imagist Anthology"
FOREWORD
THESE poems should not be considered?separately, as so many single pieces. They?are intended as an essential story, or history,?or confession, unfolding one from the other?in organic development, the whole revealing?the intrinsic experience of a man during?the crisis of manhood, when he marries?and comes into himself. The period?covered is, roughly, the sixth lustre
of a man's life
CONTENTS
MOONRISE?ELEGY?NONENTITY?MARTYR A LA MODE?DON JUAN?THE SEA?HYMN TO PRIAPUS?BALLAD OF A WILFUL WOMAN?FIRST MORNING?"AND OH--
THAT THE MAN I AM MIGHT CEASE TO BE--"?SHE LOOKS BACK?ON THE BALCONY?FROHNLEICHNAM?IN THE DARK?MUTILATION?HUMILIATION?A YOUNG WIFE?GREEN?RIVER ROSES?GLOIRE DE DIJON?ROSES ON THE BREAKFAST TABLE?I AM LIKE A ROSE?ROSE OF ALL THE WORLD?A YOUTH MOWING?QUITE FORSAKEN?FORSAKEN AND FORLORN?FIREFLIES IN THE CORN?A DOE AT EVENING?SONG OF A MAN WHO IS NOT LOVED?SINNERS?MISERY?SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN ITALY?WINTER DAWN?A BAD BEGINNING?WHY DOES SHE WEEP??GIORNO DEI MORTI?ALL SOULS?LADY WIFE?BOTH SIDES OF THE MEDAL?LOGGERHEADS?DECEMBER NIGHT?NEW YEAR'S EVE?NEW YEAR'S NIGHT?VALENTINE'S NIGHT?BIRTH NIGHT?RABBIT SNARED IN THE NIGHT?PARADISE RE-ENTERED?SPRING MORNING?WEDLOCK?HISTORY?SONG OF A MAN WHO HAS COME THROUGH?ONE WOMAN TO ALL WOMEN?PEOPLE?STREET LAMPS?"SHE SAID AS WELL TO ME"?NEW HEAVEN AND EARTH?ELYSIUM?MANIFESTO?AUTUMN RAIN?FROST FLOWERS?CRAVING FOR SPRING
ARGUMENT
_After much struggling and loss in love and in?the world of man, the protagonist throws in?his lot with a woman who is already married.?Together they go into another country, she?perforce leaving her children behind. The?conflict of love and hate goes on between the?man and the woman, and between these two?and the world around them, till it reaches?some sort of conclusion, they transcend into
some condition of blessedness_
_MOONRISE_
AND who has seen the moon, who has not seen?Her rise from out the chamber of the deep,?Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber?Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw?Confession of delight upon the wave,?Littering the waves with her own superscription?Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes towards
us?Spread out and known at last, and we are sure?That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,?That perfect, bright experience never falls?To nothingness, and time will dim the moon?Sooner than our full consummation here?In this odd life will tarnish or pass away.
_ELEGY_
THE sun immense and rosy?Must have sunk and become extinct?The night you closed your eyes for ever against me.
Grey days, and wan, dree dawnings?Since then, with fritter of flowers--?Day wearies me with its ostentation and fawnings.
Still, you left me the nights,?The great dark glittery window,?The bubble hemming this empty existence with
lights.
Still in the vast hollow?Like a breath in a bubble spinning?Brushing the stars, goes my soul, that skims the
bounds like a swallow!
I can look through?The film of the bubble night, to where you are.?Through the film I can almost touch you.
EASTWOOD
_NONENTITY_
THE stars that open and shut?Fall on my shallow breast?Like stars on a pool.
The soft wind, blowing cool?Laps little crest after crest?Of ripples across my breast.
And dark grass under my feet?Seems to dabble in me?Like grass in a brook.
Oh, and it is sweet?To be all these things, not to be?Any more myself.
For look,?I am weary of myself!
_MARTYR à LA MODE_
AH God, life, law, so many names you keep,?You great, you patient Effort, and you Sleep?That does inform this various dream of living,?You sleep stretched out for ever, ever giving?Us out as dreams, you august Sleep?Coursed round by rhythmic movement of all
time,
The constellations, your great heart, the sun?Fierily pulsing, unable to refrain;?Since you, vast, outstretched, wordless Sleep?Permit of no beyond, ah you, whose dreams?We are, and body of sleep, let it never be said?I quailed at my appointed function, turned poltroon
For when at night, from out the full surcharge?Of a day's experience, sleep does slowly draw?The harvest, the spent action to itself;?Leaves me unburdened to begin again;?At night, I say, when I am gone in sleep,?Does my slow heart rebel, do my dead hands?Complain of what the day has had them do?
Never let it be said I was poltroon?At this my task of living, this my dream,?This me which rises from the dark of sleep?In white flesh robed to drape another dream,?As lightning comes all white and trembling?From out the cloud of sleep, looks round about?One moment, sees, and swift its dream is over,?In one rich drip it sinks to another sleep,?And sleep thereby is one more