Pomegranate

Pomegranate

You tell me I am wrong.
Who are you, who is anybody to tell me I am wrong?
I am not wrong.

In Syracuse, rock left bare by the viciousness of Greek
    women.
No doubt you have forgotten the pomegranate-trees in
    flower,
Oh so red, and such a lot of them.

Whereas at Venice
Abhorrent, green, slippery city
Whose Doges were old, and had ancient eyes.
In the dense foliage of the inner garden
Pomegranates like bright green stone,
And barbed, barbed with a crown.
Oh, crown of spiked green metal
Actually growing!

Now in Tuscany,
Pomegranates to warm, your hands at;
And crowns, kingly, generous, tilting crowns
Over the left eyebrow.

And, if you dare, the fissure!

Do you mean to tell me you will see no fissure?
Do you prefer to look on the plain side?

For all that, the setting suns are open.
The end cracks open with the beginning:
Rosy, tender, glittering within the fissure.

Do you mean to tell me there should be no fissure?
No glittering, compact drops of dawn?
Do you mean it is wrong, the gold-filmed skin, integument,
    shown ruptured?

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken.
It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

D. H. Lawrence,  Birds, Beasts, And Flowers, Poems by D.H. Lawrence, (David R.Godine Publisher, 2007), p.13.

Some interesting articles on D. H. Lawrence:

The Repetitive, Meditative Style of Lawrence's Birds, Beasts, and Flowers
C Comellini , SICILY IN D.H. LAWRENCE'S IMAGERY 
Maria Cristina Consiglio, D.H. Lawrence's Sicilian Landscape.
Kenneth Rexroth, Poetry, Regeneration, and D.H. Lawrence