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RESTLESSNESS by D. H. Lawrence

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A man stands at the entrance of his room late at night, overwhelmed by a deep, unnameable hunger that the comfort of indoors can't fulfill.

Poet
D. H. Lawrence
Themes
identity, loneliness, love
The PoemFull text

RESTLESSNESS

D. H. Lawrence

AT the open door of the room I stand and look at the night, Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight, Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room. I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light, And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb. I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the shore To draw his net through the surfs thin line, at the dawn before The sun warms the sea, little, lonely and sad, sifting the sobbing tide. I will sift the surf that edges the night, with my net, the four Strands of my eyes and my lips and my hands and my feet, sifting the store Of flotsam until my soul is tired or satisfied. I will catch in my eyes' quick net The faces of all the women as they go past, Bend over them with my soul, to cherish the wet Cheeks and wet hair a moment, saying: "Is it you?" Looking earnestly under the dark umbrellas, held fast Against the wind; and if, where the lamplight blew Its rainy swill about us, she answered me With a laugh and a merry wildness that it was she Who was seeking me, and had found me at last to free Me now from the stunting bonds of my chastity, How glad I should be! Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool; Why don't they open with vision and speak to me, what have they in sight? Why do I wander aimless among them, desirous fool? I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls, Always gladden my amorous fingers with the touch of their leaves, Always kneel in courtship to the shelves in the doorways, where falls The shadow, always offer myself to one mistress, who always receives. But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good. There is something I want to feel in my running blood, Something I want to touch; I must hold my face to the rain, I must hold my face to the wind, and let it explain Me its life as it hurries in secret. I will trail my hands again through the drenched, cold leaves Till my hands are full of the chillness and touch of leaves, Till at length they induce me to sleep, and to forget.

Public domain

Sourced from Project Gutenberg

§01Quick summary

What this poem is about

A man stands at the entrance of his room late at night, overwhelmed by a deep, unnameable hunger that the comfort of indoors can't fulfill. He steps into the rainy darkness, searching — for a woman, for connection, for something in nature itself — but finds nothing that truly meets his need. The poem concludes not with satisfaction but with weariness: he runs his hands through damp leaves until sleep, rather than fulfillment, finally brings him peace.

§02Themes

Recurring themes

§03Line by line

Stanza by stanza, with notes

  1. AT the open door of the room I stand and look at / the night,

    Editor's note

    The speaker stands literally on the threshold — one foot in the lit room and one reaching toward the dark. His first small act of reaching outward is catching raindrops in his hand. The room is labeled a 'box of light,' which feels more confining than comforting, while the darkness outside is 'fecund' — alive, generative, and full of possibility. The soul is described as 'hungry,' setting the emotional tone for everything that follows.

  2. I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the / shore

    Editor's note

    Lawrence presents the core metaphor: the speaker resembles a fisherman pulling a net through the surf at dawn — alone, slightly melancholic, navigating the fragile line between two realms. His 'net' consists of his four senses (eyes, lips, hands, feet), and what he seeks is 'flotsam' — debris, unexpected discoveries, whatever the night has washed ashore. This image candidly reflects the aimlessness of the quest; he isn't after something specific, just sifting through the remnants.

  3. I will catch in my eyes' quick net / The faces of all the women as they go past,

    Editor's note

    The search takes on a clear erotic and social dimension. The speaker looks at women's faces beneath their rain-soaked umbrellas, silently asking each one, 'Is it you?' He envisions a woman who would laugh and respond with a 'yes' — someone who is also searching and could liberate him from what he describes as 'the stunting bonds of my chastity.' This fantasy feels tender rather than predatory; he connects with their faces using his soul, not just his eyes. The exclamation 'How glad I should be!' carries a poignant sense of longing, as the conditional tense indicates that this moment has yet to happen.

  4. Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night / Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool;

    Editor's note

    The speaker shifts his attention from the women to the group of men surrounding him, noticing how closed off they are, much like sea anemones that pull back when touched. He questions why they remain silent and then reflects on his own presence: why is he mingling with them, a 'desirous fool'? In this fleeting moment of self-mockery, he gains a brief perspective on his own restlessness.

  5. I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls,

    Editor's note

    Books provide a different kind of intimacy. The language used is intentionally sensual — 'amorous fingers,' 'courtship,' 'mistress' — suggesting that reading can be like a love affair. And it's dependable: the shelf 'always receives.' Yet, the word 'always' begins to feel like a snare. Something that's always accessible and consistent lacks the vibrant, unpredictable connection that the speaker longs for.

  6. But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good.

    Editor's note

    The poem's emotional pivot is striking. Lawrence drops all metaphor and states it plainly: books, beauty, sensory wandering — none of it fills the void. The speaker returns to the physical world — rain on his face, wind communicating with him, cold wet leaves in his hands — not because they satisfy him but because they are tangible and present. The poem concludes with the leaves bringing sleep and forgetfulness, the closest thing to peace available. It's more of a resignation than a resolution.

§04Tone & mood

How this poem feels

The tone is restless and aching throughout, just as the title suggests. Lawrence uses long, flowing lines that evoke the image of someone pacing a room or hurrying through the rain, and the repeated 'I will' phrases lend the poem an intense, almost ritualistic feel. Beneath this urgency lies a sense of loneliness and a raw self-awareness: the speaker realizes he appears foolish, understands that the books are merely a consolation, and knows the night likely won't bring what he desires. The ending feels quiet and somewhat defeated, yet not bitter—more like someone who has exhausted themselves and finally surrenders to sleep.

§05Symbols & metaphors

Symbols & metaphors

The open door / threshold
The doorway where the speaker begins is the central image of the poem: it represents the line between safety and being truly alive, between the self-contained 'box of light' and the rich, confusing dark. Lawrence often uses thresholds in his writing to highlight moments of possible change.
The fishing net
The speaker's four senses — eyes, lips, hands, feet — are likened to the four strands of a net pulled through the surf. This imagery illustrates the search for connection as both energetic and unpredictable: you cast wide and see what you catch, but a lot of what you reel in is just flotsam.
Rain
Rain is both uncomfortable and revitalizing. The speaker intentionally turns his face to it. It embodies the raw, indifferent life of nature—an event that occurs regardless of human involvement, and one that the speaker yearns to experience directly on his skin instead of observing from behind glass.
Books on the stalls
Books represent intellectual and aesthetic pleasure—genuine, yet experienced indirectly. They are like a "mistress who always receives," which may seem generous at first. However, it becomes clear that something that's always available and passive contrasts sharply with the vibrant, living encounter the speaker seeks.
Wet leaves
The cold, drenched leaves that the speaker brushes his hands against at the end become the last replacement for human touch. They bring a 'chillness' to his hands — a sensation that lacks warmth, a contact that lacks connection. Instead of providing satisfaction, they act merely as a sedative, leading to sleep and forgetfulness.
Anemones in a dark pool
The men in the street, with their eyes 'shut like anemones,' embody a deliberate form of closure — beings that pull back when the world makes contact. This is Lawrence's metaphor for emotional self-defense. The speaker critiques this behavior in others while also acknowledging that he might fall into the same trap.

§06Historical context

Historical context

D. H. Lawrence wrote 'Restlessness' during the early years of his career, a time when he was juggling teaching, enjoying some early literary success, and feeling increasingly dissatisfied with life in provincial England. He was greatly affected by the Romantic belief that modern industrial society had disconnected people from their instinctual, bodily selves — a theme he would explore further in novels like *Sons and Lovers* (1913) and *Women in Love* (1920). This poem is part of a collection of free-verse works in *Love Poems and Others* (1913), where Lawrence was trying out looser, more personal styles compared to the Georgian poets of his time. The rainy streets of England, the bookstalls, and the faceless crowd are all inspired by his experiences in Nottingham and London. The poem's candid exploration of sexual desire and spiritual yearning reflects Lawrence's ongoing belief that modern people were too focused on their thoughts and not enough on their physical existence.

§07FAQ

Questions readers ask

It's about a man who experiences a profound, unarticulated hunger — for connection, for love, for something vibrant — that his everyday life can't fulfill. He steps into a rainy night and begins his search: he studies women's faces, meanders through crowds, peruses books, and ultimately runs his hands through damp leaves. Yet nothing truly meets his yearning. The poem focuses less on the act of finding and more on the emotions tied to the ongoing search.

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