The Snake

A snake came in the grass, It was a long, cool slink of a green thing, Slithering along, at home in the green, Ambivalence in its body, a soft sigh in its mind. It was so cool, creeping, crawling, I watched its nimbleness and saw the palm leaves’ depth. Though my heart said, O fear! I hunkered still, ready, I had a thing for the wild, and it was warm, Nothing could be truer on so warm a ground. The snake turned its face, saw me there at shore, And went on, a phantom on the verdant breath, Scattering the thought of scales like glitter on warm.

• D H Lawrence