A yellow leaf from the darkness
Hops like a frog before me.
Why should I start and stand still?
I was watching the woman that bore me
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will
To die: and the quick leaf tore me
Back to this rainy swill
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.
Brooding Grief
David Herbert Richards Lawrence
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.