First Morning

A poem by David Herbert Lawrence

The night was a failure but why not - ?

In the darkness with the pale dawn seething at the window through the black frame I could not be free, not free myself from the past, those others - and our love was a confusion, there was a horror, you recoiled away from me.

Now, in the morning
As we sit in the sunshine on the seat by the little shrine,
And look at the mountain-walls,
Walls of blue shadow,
And see so near at our feet in the meadow
Myriads of dandelion pappus
Bubbles ravelled in the dark green grass
Held still beneath the sunshine -

It is enough, you are near -
The mountains are balanced,
The dandelion seeds stay half-submerged in the grass;
You and I together
We hold them proud and blithe
On our love.
They stand upright on our love,
Everything starts from us,
We are the source.


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