She was sick with nausea so deep that she perished as she sat.
And then, in the blowing clouds, she saw a band of faint iridescence colouring in faint colours a portion of the hill. And forgetting, startled, she looked for the hovering colour and saw a rainbow forming itself.
In one place it gleamed fiercely, and, her heart anguished with hope, she sought the shadow of iris where the bow should be.
From DH Lawrence’s The Rainbow (1915)