The pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters 
Something which sets the black poplars ashake with hysterical laughter; 
While slowly the house of day is closing its eastern shutters. 

Further down the valley the clustered tombstones recede, 
Winding about their dimness the mist’s grey cerements, after
The street lamps in the darkness have suddenly started to bleed. 

The leaves fly over the window and utter a word as they pass 
To the face that leans from the darkness, intent, with two dark-filled eyes 
That watch for ever earnestly from behind the window glass. 

Added: Mar 18 2005 | Viewed: 1045 times | Comments (0)

Poet: D.H. Lawrence
Poem: At the Window

Poem of the Day on:
Jun 4 2006
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, At the Window, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by D.H. Lawrence with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!