Coming Awake

A poem by David Herbert Lawrence

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.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Coming Awake' by David Herbert Lawrence

comments powered by Disqus