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

56. In Trouble and Shame

I LOOK at the swaling sunset

And wish I could go also

Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.

I wish that I could go

Through the red doors where I could put off

My shame like shoes in the porch,

My pain like garments,

And leave my flesh discarded lying

Like luggage of some departed traveller

Gone one knows not where.

Then I would turn round,

And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,

I would laugh with joy.