Poem by David Herbert Lawrence

Thought

Thought, I love thought.
But not the juggling and twisting of already existent ideas
I despise that self-important game.
Thought is the welling up of unknown life into consciousness,
Thought is the testing of statements on the touchstone of consciousness,
Thought is gazing onto the face of life, and reading what can be read,
Thought is pondering over experience, and coming to conclusion.
Thought is not a trick, or an exercise, or a set of dodges,
Thought is a man in his wholeness, wholly attending. 

1. Submergence
2. A Sane Revolution
3. Scent Of Irises
4. Eagle in New Mexico
5. How Beastly the Bourgeois Is

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