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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364137" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hands of the Betrothed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, <br>Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; <br>Yea, and her mouth’s prudent and crude caress <br>Means even less than her many words to me. <br> <br>Though her kiss betrays me also this, this only<br>Consolation, that in her lips her blood at climax clips<br>Two wild, dumb paws in anguish on the lonely <br>Fruit of my heart, ere down, rebuked, it slips. <br> <br>I know from her hardened lips that still her heart is<br>Hungry for me, yet if I put my hand in her breast<br>She puts me away, like a saleswoman whose mart is<br>Endangered by the pilferer on his quest. <br> <br>But her hands are still the woman, the large, strong hands<br>Heavier than mine, yet like leverets caught in steel<br>When I hold them; my still soul understands<br>Their dumb confession of what her sort must feel. <br> <br>For never her hands come nigh me but they lift <br>Like heavy birds from the morning stubble, to settle <br>Upon me like sleeping birds, like birds that shift <br>Uneasily in their sleep, disturbing my mettle.<br> <br>How caressingly she lays her hand on my knee, <br>How strangely she tries to disown it, as it sinks <br>In my flesh and bone and forages into me, <br>How it stirs like a subtle stoat, whatever she thinks!<br> <br>And often I see her clench her fingers tight<br>And thrust her fists suppressed in the folds of her skirt; <br>And sometimes, how she grasps her arms with her bright<br>Big hands, as if surely her arms did hurt. <br> <br>And I have seen her stand all unaware <br>Pressing her spread hands over her breasts, as she<br>Would crush their mounds on her heart, to kill in there <br>The pain that is her simple ache for me. <br> <br>Her strong hands take my part, the part of a man <br>To her; she crushes them into her bosom deep <br>Where I should lie, and with her own strong span<br>Closes her arms, that should fold me in sleep. <br> <br>Ah, and she puts her hands upon the wall, <br>Presses them there, and kisses her bright hands,<br>Then lets her black hair loose, the darkness fall <br>About her from her maiden-folded bands.<br> <br>And sits in her own dark night of her bitter hair <br>Dreaming—God knows of what, for to me she’s the same<br>Betrothed young lady who loves me, and takes care <br>Of her womanly virtue and of my good name.</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=364137" data-title="The Hands of the Betrothed de David Herbert Lawrence" data-description="Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, 
Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; 
Yea, and her mouth’s prudent and crude caress 
Means even less than her many words to me. 
 
Though her kiss betrays me also this, this only
Consolatio..."></div>
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