Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GREY EVENING, by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE

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GREY EVENING, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: When you went, how was it you carried with you
Last Line: Nay, take this weary book of hours away.
Alternate Author Name(s): Lawrence, D. H.

WHEN you went, how was it you carried with you
My missal book of fine, flamboyant hours?
My book of turrets and of red-thorn bowers,
And skies of gold, and ladies in bright tissue?

Now underneath a blue-grey twilight, heaped
Beyond the withering snow of the shorn fields
Stands rubble of stunted houses; all is reaped
And garnered that the golden daylight yields.

Dim lamps like yellow poppies glimmer among
The shadowy stubble of the under-dusk,
As farther off the scythe of night is swung,
And little stars come rolling from their husk.

And all the earth is gone into a dust
Of greyness mingled with a fume of gold,
Covered with aged lichens, past with must,
And all the sky has withered and gone cold.

And so I sit and scan the book of grey,
Feeling the shadows like a blind man reading,
All fearful lest I find the last words bleeding
Nay, take this weary Book of Hours away.

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