Ā Under the OakĀ š³ YOU, if you were sensible, When I tell you the stars flash signals, each one dreadful, You would not turn and answer meĀ āThe night is wonderful.āĀ š³ Ā Even you, if you knew How this darkness soaks me through and through, and infuses Unholy fear in my vapour, you would pause to distinguish What hurts, from what amuses. š³ For I tell youĀ Beneath this powerful tree, my whole soulās fluidĀ Ā Oozes away from me as a sacrifice steamĀ At the knife of a Druid. š³ Again I tell you, I bleed, I am bound with withies, My life runs out.Ā I tell you my blood runs out on the floor of this oak, Gout upon gout.Ā Ā Ā š³ Above me springs the blood-born mistletoeĀ In the shady smoke. But who are you, twittering to and froĀ Beneath the oak?Ā Ā š³ What thing better are you, what worse?Ā What have you to do with the mysteriesĀ Of this ancient place, of my ancient curse?Ā What place have you in my histories?Ā #undertheoak #dhlawrence #poem #š³ (at Annaba, Algeria)