Coming Awake / D.H. 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.