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Lotus Hurt By The Cold

Topics: classic

How many times, like lotus lilies risen     Upon the surface of a river, there     Have risen floating on my blood the rare     Soft glimmers of my hope escaped from prison.     So I am clothed all over with the light     And sensitive beautiful blossoming of passion;     Till naked for her in the finest fashion     The flowers of all my mud swim into sight.     And then I offer all myself unto     This woman who likes to love me: but she turns     A look of hate upon the flower that burns     To break and pour her out its precious dew.     And slowly all the blossom shuts in pain,     And all the lotus buds of love sink over     To die unopened: when my moon-faced lover,     Kind on the weight of suffering, smiles again.

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"How many times, like lotus lilies risen..."

This evocative piece by D. H. Lawrence (David Herbert Richards), titled "Lotus Hurt By The Cold", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

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"The chime of the bells, and the church clock strik..."

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