Reminder by D.H. Lawrence — Read

Do you remember / How night after night swept level and low / Overhead, at home, and had not one star, / Nor one narrow gate for the moon to go / Forth to her field of November.

And you remember, / How towards the north a red blot on the sky / Burns like a blotch of anxiety / Over the forges, and small flames ply / Like ghosts the shadow of the ember.