DECEMBER NIGHT
Take off your cloak and your hat
And your shoes, and draw up at my hearth
Where never woman sat.
I have made the fire up bright;
Let us leave the rest in the dark
And sit by firelight.
The wine is warm in the hearth;
The flickers come and go.
I will warm your feet with kisses
And your shoes, and draw up at my hearth
Where never woman sat.
I have made the fire up bright;
Let us leave the rest in the dark
And sit by firelight.
The wine is warm in the hearth;
The flickers come and go.
I will warm your feet with kisses
Until they glow.
I didn't know much about D.H. Lawrence. The site had a short biography I found interesting as well:
David
Herbert Richards Lawrence (1885 – 1930) was an English novelist, poet,
essayist, critic, playwright, and painter. The son of a miner and a
school teacher, Bert (as he was called) grew up in extreme poverty and
suffered from poor health. Although he loved to read, he was not a
particularly good student. He did, however, manage to win a high school
scholarship and became a teacher before success as a writer allowed him
to pursue that career fulltime. Accused more than once of spying for the
Germans, Bert eventually left his home country to travel the world with
his wife. The Lawrences intended to settle in America, but problems
with his health forced them to return to Europe; Lawrence died in France
at the age of 45. A prolific writer who produced work in multiple
genres, Lawrence is best known as a novelist, although he wrote more
than 800 poems and was considered an extremely gifted travel writer.
Public opinion during his lifetime and even till today paints him as
either utterly profane and depraved or as a brilliant and creative
genius.
YOU DECIDE
I am hoping to get some Christmas cards out today.
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