D. H. Lawrence — All of Roses

                I By the Isar, in the twilight We were wandering and singing; By the Isar, in the evening We climbed the huntsman's ladder and sat swinging In the fir-tree overlooking the marshes; While river met with river, and the ringing Of their pale-green glacier-water filled the evening. By the Isar, in the twilight We found our warm wild roses Hanging red at the river; and simmering Frogs were singing, and over the river closes Was scent of roses, and glimmering In the twilight, our kisses across the roses Met, and her face, and my face, were roses.                 II When she rises in the morning I linger to watch her. She stands in silhouette against the window, And the sunbeams catch her Glistening white on the shoulders;         While down her sides, the mellow         Golden shadow glows, and her breasts         Swing like full-blown yellow         Gloire de Dijon roses. She drips herself with water, And her shoulders Glisten as silver, they crumple up Like wet and shaken roses, and I listen For the rustling of their white, unfolding petals.         In the window full of sunlight         She stirs her golden shadow,         And flashes all herself as sun-bright         As if roses fought with roses.                 III Just a few of the roses we gathered from the Isar Are fallen, and their mauve-red petals on the cloth Float like boats on a river, waiting For a fairy-wind to wake them from their sloth. She laughs at me across the table, saying She loves me; and I blow a little boat Rocking down the shoals between the tea-cups And so kiss-beladen that it scarce can float.                 IV Now like a rose come tip-toe out of bud I see the woman's soul steal in her eyes, And wide in ecstasy I sit and watch The unknown flower issued magic-wise. And day by day out of the envious bud My treasure softly slips uncurled, And day by day my happiness vibrates In wide and wider circles round the world.