Explore "The Little Town at Evening" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE chime of the bells, and the church clock / striking eight / Solemnly and distinctly cries down the babel / of children still playing in the hay. / The church draws nearer upon us, gentle and great / In shadow, covering us up with her grey.
Like drowsy children the houses fall asleep / Under the fleece of shadow, as in between / Tall and dark the church moves, anxious to keep / Their sleeping, cover them soft unseen.
Hardly a murmur comes from the sleeping brood, / I wish the church had covered me up with the rest / In the home-place. Why is it she should exclude / Me so distinctly from sleeping with those I love best?