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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364150" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tortoise Gallantry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Making his advances<br>He does not look at her, nor sniff at her,<br>No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.<br>Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin<br>That work beneath her while she sprawls along<br>In her ungainly pace,<br>Her folds of skin that work and row<br>Beneath the earth-soiled hovel in which she moves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so he strains beneath her housey wall,<br>And catches her trouser-legs in his beak<br>Suddenly, or her skinny limb,<br>And strange and grimly drags at her<br>Like a dog,<br>Only agelessly silent, with a reptile's awful persistency.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grim, gruesome gallantry, to which he is doomed.<br>Dragged out of an eternity of silent isolation<br>And doomed to partiality, partial being,<br>Ache, and want of being,<br>Want,<br>Self-exposure, hard humiliation, need to add himself on to her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Born to walk alone,<br>Fore-runner,<br>Now suddenly distracted into this mazy side-track,<br>This awkward, harrowing pursuit,<br>This grim necessity from within.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Does she know<br>As she moves eternally slowly away?<br>Or is he driven against her with a bang, like a bird flying in the dark against a window,<br>All knowledgeless?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The awful concussion,<br>And the still more awful need to persist, to follow, follow, continue,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Driven, after aeons of pristine, fore-god-like singleness and oneness,<br>At the end of some mysterious, red-hot iron,<br>Driven away from himself into her tracks,<br>Forced to crash against her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stiff, gallant, irascible, crook-legged reptile,<br>Little gentleman,<br>Sorry plight,<br>We ought to look the other way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Save that, having come with you so far,<br>We will go on to the end.</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=364150" data-title="Tortoise Gallantry de David Herbert Lawrence" data-description="Making his advances
He does not look at her, nor sniff at her,
No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.
Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin
That work beneath her while she sprawls along
In her ungainly pace,
Her folds of skin that wor..."></div>
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