ΝΤ. Χ. ΛΩΡΕΝΣ!

D.H. LAWRENCE

A SPIRITUAL WOMAN

Close your eyes, my love, let me make you blind; 
  They have taught you to see 
Only a mean arithmetic on the face of things, 
A cunning algebra in the faces of men, 
  And God like geometry         
Completing his circles, and working cleverly. 
 
I'll kiss you over the eyes till I kiss you blind; 
  If I can—if any one could. 
Then perhaps in the dark you'll have got what you want to find. 
You've discovered so many bits, with your clever eyes,        
  And I'm a kaleidoscope 
That you shake and shake, and yet it won't come to your mind. 
Now stop carping at me.—But God, how I hate you! 
  Do you fear I shall swindle you? 
Do you think if you take me as I am, that that will abate you        
Somehow?—so sad, so intrinsic, so spiritual, yet so cautious, you 
Must have me all in your will and your consciousness— 
  I hate you.