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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  D. H. Lawrence

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Jewess and the V. C.

D. H. Lawrence

From “War Films”

AH, young man!—

What sort of timorous potion of love have you drunk?

If you see my rings, how they sparkle within my ears,

You go about in a dream, with your countenance sunk,

And children behind you taunting you to tears.

Why, if you saw my limbs, how they shine on my body,

What then would you do? Then for sure you would go

And die like a dog in a hole. ’Tis strange what a shoddy

Lover you make, such a hero in front of the foe!