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D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916.

36. Brooding Grief

A YELLOW leaf from the darkness

Hops like a frog before me.

Why should I start and stand still?

I was watching the woman that bore me

Stretched in the brindled darkness

Of the sick-room, rigid with will

To die: and the quick leaf tore me

Back to this rainy swill

Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.