Selected Poems - D.H. Lawrence My first book by [a:Lawrence|17623|D.H. Lawrence|]Quite naturally some poems I enjoyed more than others. One of my favourite is Fish and I was very glad when I found on YouTube, Andrew Scott reading a fragment of this poem. I absolutely love his voice! Here it is: Andrew Scott reads 'Fish'To be a fish ! So utterly without misgivingTo be a fishIn the waters. Loveless, and so lively!Born before God was love,Or life knew loving.Beautifully beforehand with it all. Admitted, they swarm in companies,Fishes.They drive in shoals.But soundless, and out of contact.They exchange no word, no spasm, not even anger.Not one touch.Many suspended together, forever apart.Each one alone with the waters, upon one wave with the rest. A magnetism in the water between them only. I saw a water-serpent swim across the Anapo,And I said to my heart, look, look at him!With his head up, steering like a bird!He’s a rare one, but he belongs… But sitting in a boat on the Zeller lakeAnd watching the fishes in the breathing watersLift and swim and go their way—I said to my heart, who are these?And my heart couldn’t own them…A slim young pike, with smart finsAnd grey-striped suit, a young cub of a pikeSlouching along away below, half out of sight,Like a lout on an obscure pavement… Aha, there’s somebody in the know! But watching closerThat motionless deadly motion,That unnatural barrel body, that long ghoul nose,…I left off hailing him. I had made a mistake, I didn’t know him,This grey, monotonous soul in the water,This intense individual in shadow,Fish-alive. I didn’t know his God,I didn’t know his God. Which is perhaps the last admission that life has to wring out of us. I saw, dimly,Once a big pike rush.And small fish fly like splinters.And I said to my heart, there are limitsTo you, my heart;And to the one God.Fish are beyond me. Other GodsBeyond my range… gods beyond my God. .They are beyond me, are fishes.I stand at the pale of my beingAnd look beyond, and seeFish, in the outerwards,As one stands on a bank and looks in.I have waited with a long rodAnd suddenly pulled a gold-and-greenish, lucent fish from below,And had him fly like a halo round my head,Lunging in the air on the line. Unhooked his gorping, water-horny mouth.And seen his horror-tilted eye,His red-gold, water-precious, mirror-flat bright eye;And felt him beat in my hand, with his mucous, leaping life-throb. And my heart accused itselfThinking: I am not the measure of creation.This is beyond me, this fish.His God stands outside my God. And the goId-and-green pure lacquer-mucus comes off in my hand.And the red-gold mirror-eye stares and dies,And the water-suave contour dims. But not before I have had to knowHe was born in front of my sunrise.Before my day. He outstarts me.And I, a many-fingered horror of daylight to him,Have made him die. Fishes,With their gold, red eyes, and green-pure gleam, and under-gold.And their pre-world loneliness,And more-than-lovelessness.And white meat;They move in other circles. Outsiders.Water-wayfarers.Things of one element.Aqueous,Each by itself. Cats, and the Neapolitans,Sulphur sun-beasts.Thirst for fish as for more-than-water;Water-aliveTo quench their over-sulphureous lusts. But I, I only wonderAnd don’t know.I don’t know fishes. In the beginningJesus was called The Fish.And in the end. From “Birds, Beasts, And Flowers: Poems By D. H. Lawrence.”