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D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916.

35. Listening

I LISTEN to the stillness of you,

My dear, among it all;

I feel your silence touch my words as I talk,

And take them in thrall.

My words fly off a forge

The length of a spark;

I see the night-sky easily sip them

Up in the dark.

The lark sings loud and glad,

Yet I am not loth

That silence should take the song and the bird

And lose them both.

A train goes roaring south,

The steam-flag flying;

I see the stealthy shadow of silence

Alongside going.

And off the forge of the world,

Whirling in the draught of life,

Go sparks of myriad people, filling

The night with strife.

Yet they never change the darkness

Or blench it with noise;

Alone on the perfect silence

The stars are buoys.