The acrid scents of autumn, <br />Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear <br />Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn <br />And the snore of the night in my ear. <br /> <br />For suddenly, flush-fallen, <br />All my life, in a rush <br />Of shedding away, has left me <br />Naked, exposed on the bush. <br /> <br />I, on the bush of the globe, <br />Like a newly-naked berry, shrink <br />Disclosed: but I also am prowling <br />As well in the scents that slink <br /> <br />Abroad: I in this naked berry <br />Of flesh that stands dismayed on the bush; <br />And I in the stealthy, brindled odours <br />Prowling about the lush <br /> <br />And acrid night of autumn; <br />My soul, along with the rout, <br />Rank and treacherous, prowling, <br />Disseminated out. <br /> <br />For the night, with a great breath intaken, <br />Has taken my spirit outside <br />Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness, <br />Like a man who has died. <br /> <br />At the same time I stand exposed <br />Here on the bush of the globe, <br />A newly-naked berry of flesh <br />For the stars to probe.<br /><br />David Herbert Lawrence<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dolor-of-autumn-2/
