JANE, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again;
Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair,
Jane, Jane, come down the stair.
Each dull blunt wooden stalactite
Of rain creaks, hardened by the light,
Sounding like an overtone
From some lonely world unknown.
But the creaking empty light
Will never harden into sight,
Will never penetrate your brain
With overtones like the blunt rain.
The light would show (if it could harden)
Eternities of kitchen garden,
Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck,
And wooden flowers that ‘gin to cluck.
In the kitchen you must light
Flames as staring, red and white,
As carrots or as turnips shining
Where the cold dawn light lies whining.
Cockscomb hair on the cold wind
Hangs limp, turns the milk’s weak mind . . .
Jane, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again!
(Dame Edith Sitwell)
More Poetry from Dame Edith Sitwell:
Dame Edith Sitwell Poems based on Topics: Light, Hair, Sense & Perception, Garden, Morning- Solo For Ear-Trumpet (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
- Heart And Mind (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
- Portrait Of A Barmaid (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
- The Lady With The Sewing-Machi (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
- Eventail (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
- The Dancers: (During A Great Battle, 1916) (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Light Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Morning Poems, Hair Poems, Garden PoemsBased on Keywords: eternities, carrots, penetrate, turnips, creaks, cluck, overtones, stalactite, cockscomb, overtone