When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.
Apologies to rose connoisseurs, who will no doubt be screaming that the rose in the photograph is not Gloire de Dijon. Sadly, I do not have a Gloire de Dijon rose, so I’m claiming poetic licence. I love this poem by D H Lawrence, and really wanted to include it, so I decided to use this picture of my rose Golden Celebration. It is the right colour, and it does indeed have rain-dishevelled petals, so I hope you’ll forgive me.
Lawrence is, I think. much better known as a novelist, but his poetry is also worth exploring.