If Anyone Doubts That D. H. Lawrence Wrote Some Really Crappy Poetry

D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930).  New Poems.  1916.

From a College Window 


THE GLIMMER of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping,  
  Goes trembling past me up the College wall.  
Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping,  
  The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall.  
  
Beyond the leaves that overhang the street,          
  Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white,  
Passes the world with shadows at their feet  
  Going left and right.  
  
Remote, although I hear the beggar’s cough,  
  See the woman’s twinkling fingers tend him a coin,   
I sit absolved, assured I am better off  
  Beyond a world I never want to join.

Banal, self-satisfied, preening as he sits in his absolution, assured he is better off, beyond a world he never wants to join beyond his blue-lawned, daisy-frothed quiescent campus.  No doubt the beggar is one of those he wants to march to death into his giant lethal chamber, his self assurance that the wretch will smile his weary thanks for his murder to the benevolence of the college boy looking out at a world he disdains to ever become a part of the crown of his superiority.  What a pig.