D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). New Poems. 1916.
35. Twenty Years Ago
R
And foal-foots spangling the paths,
And far away on the sand-hills, dewberries
Caught dust from the sea’s long swaths.
And nuts fell out of their hair.
At the gate the nets hung, balking
The star-lit rush of a hare.
Tinkled the music of gleaning.
At a mother’s knees, the trouble
Lost all its meaning.
To this sad end!
Have we had our innings?
God forfend!