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Nonentity

The stars that open and shut
Fall on my shallow breast
Like stars on a pool.
 
The soft wind, blowing cool
Laps little crest after crest
Of ripples across my breast.
 
And dark grass under my feet
Seems to dabble in me
Like grass in a brook.
 
Oh, and it is sweet
To be all these things, not to be
Any more myself.
 
For look,
I am weary of myself!
Other works by D. H. Lawrence ...



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