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Sickness, by D.H. Lawrence

WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark, 
Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the bark 
Of my body slowly behind. 
Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night 
Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if in their flight         5
My hands should touch the door! 
What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door 
Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet, before 
I can draw back! 
What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide  10
And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone down the tide 
Of eternal hereafter! 
Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts. 
Take them away from their venture, before fate wrests 
The meaning out of them.  15

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