Explore "Scent of Irises. (D. H. Lawrence)" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A faint, sickening scent of irises / Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table / A fine proud spike of purple irises / Rising above the class-room litter, makes me unable / To see the class's lifted and bended faces / Save in a broken pattern, amid purple and gold and sable.
I can smell the gorgeous bog-end, in its breathless / Dazzle of may-blobs, when the marigold glare overcast / You with fire on your brow and your cheeks and your chin as you dipped / Your face in your marigold bunch, to touch and contrast / Your own dark mouth with the bridal faint lady-smocks / Dissolved in the golden sorcery you should not outlast.