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 run- ning lights And the airy primulas, oblivious Of the impending bee — they were fair enough sights.