<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364128" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Study</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird<br>Quickens the unclasping hands of hazel, <br>Somewhere the wind-flowers fling their heads back,<br>Stirred by an impetuous wind. Some ways’ll <br>All be sweet with white and blue violet.<br>(Hush now, hush. Where am I?—Biuret—)<br> <br>On the green wood’s edge a shy girl hovers <br>From out of the hazel-screen on to the grass, <br>Where wheeling and screaming the petulant plovers<br>Wave frighted. Who comes? A labourer, alas!<br>Oh the sunset swims in her eyes’ swift pool. <br>(Work, work, you fool——!)<br> <br>Somewhere the lamp hanging low from the ceiling<br>Lights the soft hair of a girl as she reads, <br>And the red firelight steadily wheeling<br>Weaves the hard hands of my friend in sleep. <br>And the white dog snuffs the warmth, appealing<br>For the man to heed lest the girl shall weep. <br>(Tears and dreams for them; for me <br> Bitter science—the exams are near.<br> I wish I bore it more patiently. <br> I wish you did not wait, my dear, <br> For me to come: since work I must: <br> Though it’s all the same when we are dead.—<br> I wish I was only a bust,<br> All head.)</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=364128" data-title="Study de David Herbert Lawrence" data-description="Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird Quickens the unclasping hands of hazel, Somewhere the wind-flowers fling their heads back, Stirred by an impetuous wind. Some ways’ll All be sweet with white and blue violet. (Hush now, hush. Whe..."></div> </div> </div>

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