poems

[Digby]

I recently discovered that I love poetry and am looking for a poem written by D.H. Lawrence. This poem was discussed at an outdoor dinner party where bats were flying around. One of the guests mentioned a poem by Lawrence where observers are speaking very positively about the "birds" in the sky until it is realized they are bats. Would someone please send me this poem or the name of the poem so that I can read it?

Also, under what circumstances did Wal Whitman write "Captain, My Captain?"
Thank you.
Digby

[subterranean]

Hello, Digby.

Suppose you're referring to this poem:

http://www.kalliope.org/digt.pl?longdid=lawrence2001061706


Bat




At evening, sitting on this terrace,
When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara
Departs, and the world is taken by surprise ...

When the tired flower of Florence is in gloom beneath the glowing
Brown hills surrounding ...

When under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio
A green light enters against stream, flush from the west,
Against the current of obscure Arno ...

Look up, and you see things flying
Between the day and the night;
Swallows with spools of dark thread sewing the shadows together.

A circle swoop, and a quick parabola under the bridge arches
Where light pushes through;
A sudden turning upon itself of a thing in the air.
A dip to the water.

And you think:
"The swallows are flying so late!"

Swallows?

Dark air-life looping
Yet missing the pure loop ...
A twitch, a twitter, an elastic shudder in flight
And serrated wings against the sky,
Like a glove, a black glove thrown up at the light,
And falling back.

Never swallows!
Bats! The swallows are gone.

At a wavering instant the swallows gave way to bats
By the Ponte Vecchio ...
Changing guard.

Bats, and an uneasy creeping in one's scalp
As the bats swoop overhead!
Flying madly.

Pipistrello!
Black piper on an infinitesimal pipe.
Little lumps that fly in air and have voices indefinite, wildly vindictive;

Wings like bits of umbrella.

Bats!

Creatures that hang themselves up like an old rag, to sleep;
And disgustingly upside down.
Hanging upside down like rows of disgusting old rags
And grinning in their sleep.
Bats!

Not for me!

[Virgil]

Great job Sub. I love Lawerence's animal poems. There are quite a few. The best are the series he wrote on tortoises.