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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364126" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Snap-Dragon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She bade me follow to her garden where <br>The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup <br>Between the old grey walls; I did not dare <br>To raise my face, I did not dare look up <br>Lest her bright eyes like sparrows should fly in <br>My windows of discovery and shrill 'Sin!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So with a downcast mien and laughing voice <br>I followed, followed the swing of her white dress <br>That rocked in a lilt along: I watched the poise <br>Of her feet as they flew for a space, then paused to press <br>The grass deep down with the royal burden of her: <br>And gladly I'd offered my breast to the tread of her. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I like to see,' she said, and she crouched her down, <br>She sunk into my sight like a settling bird; <br>And her bosom crouched in the confines of her gown <br>Like heavy birds at rest there, softly stirred <br>By her measured breaths: 'I like to see,' said she, <br>'The snap-dragon put out his tongue at me.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She laughed, she reached her hand out to the flower <br>Closing its crimson throat: my own throat in her power <br>Strangled, my heart swelled up so full <br>As if it would burst its wineskin in my throat, <br>Choke me in my own crimson; I watched her pull <br>The gorge of the gaping flower, till the blood did float </div><div style="margin:10px 0">        Over my eyes and I was blind -- <br>Her large brown hand stretched over <br>The windows of my mind, <br>And in the dark I did discover <br>Things I was out to find: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My grail, a brown bowl twined <br>With swollen veins that met in the wrist, <br>Under whose brown the amethyst <br>I longed to taste: and I longed to turn <br>My heart's red measure in her cup, <br>I longed to feel my hot blood burn <br>With the lambent amethyst in her cup. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then suddenly she looked up <br>And I was blind in a tawny-gold day <br>Till she took her eyes away. So she came down from above <br>And emptied my heart of love . . . <br>So I helf my heart aloft <br>To the cuckoo that fluttered above, <br>And she settled soft. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It seemed that I and the morning world <br>Were pressed cup-shape to take this reiver <br>Bird who was weary to have furled <br>Her wings on us, <br>As we were weary to receive her: </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> This bird, this rich <br> Sumptuous central grain, <br> This mutable witch, <br> This one refrain, <br> This laugh in the fight, <br> This clot of light, <br> This core of night. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She spoke, and I closed my eyes <br>To shut hallucinations out. <br>I echoed with surprise <br>Hearing my mere lips shout <br>The answer they did devise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again, I saw a brown bird hover <br> Over the flowers at my feet; <br> I felt a brown bird hover <br> Over my heart, and sweet <br> Its shadow lay on my heart. <br> I thought I saw on the clover <br> A brown bee pulling apart <br> The closed flesh of the clover <br> And burrowing into its heart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She moved her hand, and again <br>I felt the brown bird hover <br>Over my heart . . . and then <br>The bird came down on my heart, <br>As on a nest the rover <br>Cuckoo comes, and shoves over <br>The brim each careful part <br>Of love, takes possession and settles down, <br>With her wings and her feathers does drown <br>The nest in a heat of love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She turned her flushed face to me for the glint <br>Of a moment. 'See,' she laughed, 'if you also <br>Can make them yawn.' I put my hand to the dint <br>In the flower's throat, and the flower gaped wide with woe. <br>She watched, she went of a sudden intensely still, <br>She watched my hand, and I let her watch her fill. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I pressed the wretched, throttled flower between <br>My fingers, till its head lay back, its fangs <br>Poised at her: like a weapon my hand stood white and keen, <br>And I held the choked flower-serpent in its pangs <br>Of mordant anguish till she ceased to laugh, <br>Until her pride's flag, smitten, cleaved down to the staff. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She hid her face, she murmured between her lips <br>The low word 'Don't!' I let the flower fall, <br>But held my hand afloat still towards the slips <br>Of blossom she fingered, and my crisp fingers all <br>Put forth to her: she did not move, nor I, <br>For my hand like a snake watched hers that could not fly. <br>Then I laughed in the dark of my heart, I did exult <br>Like a sudden chuckling of music: I bade her eyes <br>Meet mine, I opened her helpless eyes to consult <br>Their fear, their shame, their joy that underlies <br>Defeat in such a battle: in the dark of her eyes <br>My heart was fierce to make her laughter rise . . . <br>Till her dark deeps shook with convulsive thrills, and the dark <br>Of her spirit wavered like water thrilled with light, <br>And my heart leaped up in longing to plunge its stark <br>Fervour within the pool of her twilight: <br>Within her spacious gloom, in the mystery <br>Of her barbarous soul, to grope with ecstasy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I do not care though the large hands of revenge <br>Shall get my throat at last -- shall get it soon, <br>If the joy that they are lifted to avenge <br>Have risen red on my night as a harvest moon, <br>Which even Death can only put out for me, <br>And death I know is beter than not-to-be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Herbert+Lawrence">David Herbert Lawrence</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364126" data-title="Snap-Dragon de David Herbert Lawrence" data-description="She bade me follow to her garden where 
The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup 
Between the old grey walls; I did not dare 
To raise my face, I did not dare look up 
Lest her bright eyes like sparrows should fly in 
My windows of discovery and shri..."></div>
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