Explore "Roses on the Breakfast Table" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
JUST a few of the roses we gathered from the Isar / Are fallen, and their mauve-red petals on the / cloth / Float like boats on a river, while other / Roses are ready to fall, reluctant and loth.
She laughs at me across the table, saying / I am beautiful. I look at the rumpled young roses / And suddenly realise, in them as in me, / How lovely the present is that this day discloses.