CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930).  Amores.  1916.

Index of First Lines


A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight
Acrid scents of autumn, The
A faint, sickening scent of irises
Ah, my darling, when over the purple horizon shall loom
Always, sweetheart
As a drenched, drowned bee
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night
A wind comes from the north
A yellow leaf from the darkness

Close your eyes, my love, let me make you blind

Darkness steals the forms of all the queens, The

Earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over, The

Five old bells, The

Had I but known yesterday
Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness
Hoar-frost crumbles in the sun, The
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door
How many times, like lotus lilies risen

If I could have put you in my heart
I have fetched the tears up out of the little wells
I have opened the window to warm my hands on the sill
I listen to the stillness of you
I look at the swaling sunset
It is stormy, and raindrops cling like silver bees to the pane
I will give you all my keys
I wonder, can the night go by
I wonder if with you, as it is with me

Many years have I still to burn, detained
Moon is broken in twain, and half a moon, The
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving
My little love, my darling
My love looks like a girl to-night
My world is a painted fresco, where coloured shapes

Now and again
Now I am all

Oh the green glimmer of apples in the orchard
Out of the darkness, fretted sometimes in its sleeping
Outside the house an ash-tree hung its terrible whips

Patience, little Heart
Pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters, The

Quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping, The

Reject me not if I should say to you
Round clouds roll in the arms of the wind

See the stars, love
She bade me follow to her garden, where
Shorn moon trembling indistinct on her path, The
Sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window, The
Since I lost you I am silence-haunted
Since I lost you, my darling, the sky has come near
Since you did depart
Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird

This is the last of all, this is the last!
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green
Too far away, oh love, I know

When along the pavement
When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
When you went, how was it you carried with you
Why does the thin grey strand

Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow
Yours is the shame and sorrow


CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD


 
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