WHEN I woke, the lake-lights were quivering on the wall,   The sunshine swam in a shoal across and across, And a hairy, big bee hung over the primulas   In the window, his body black fur, and the sound of him cross. There was something I ought to remember: and yet   I did not remember. Why should I?   The running lights And the airy primulas, oblivious   Of the impending bee -- they were fair enough sights. -- D. H. Lawrence, Coming Awake

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