Solo For Ear-Trumpet (Dame Edith Sitwell Poems)
The carriage brushes through the brightLeaves (violent jets from life to light);Strong polished speed is plunging, heavesBetween the showers of ...
The carriage brushes through the brightLeaves (violent jets from life to light);Strong polished speed is plunging, heavesBetween the showers of ...
SAID the Lion to the Lioness-'When you are amber dust,-No more a raging fire like the heat of the Sun(No ...
Metallic waves of people jarThrough crackling green toward the barWhere on the tables chattering-whiteThe sharp drinks quarrel with the light.Those ...
Across the fields as green as spinach,Cropped as close as Time to Greenwich,Stands a high house; if at all,Spring comes ...
Lovely SemiramisCloses her slanting eyes:Dead is she long ago,From her fan sliding slowParrot-bright fire's feathersGilded as June weathers,Plumes like the ...
The floors are slippery with blood:The world gyrates too. God is goodThat while His wind blows out the lightFor those ...
Mid this hot green glowing gloomA word falls with a raindrop's boom...Like baskets of ripe fruit in airThe bird-songs seem, ...
Enobles the heart and the eyes, and unveils the meaning of all things upon which the heart and the eyes ...
Still falls the Rain--- Dark as the world of man, black as our loss--- Blind as the nineteen hundred and ...
WHEN cold December Froze to grisamber The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees-- Then fading slow And furred is the ...
Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall ...
Cried the navy-blue ghost Of Mr. Belaker The allegro Negro cocktail-shaker, "Why did the cock crow, Why am I lost, ...
ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember When last ...
JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again; Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down ...
BENEATH the flat and paper sky The sun, a demon's eye, Glowed through the air, that mask of glass; All ...
LOVELY Semiramis Closes her slanting eyes: Dead is she long ago. From her fan, sliding slow, Parrot-bright fire's feathers, Gilded ...
CAME the great Popinjay Smelling his nosegay: In cages like grots The birds sang gavottes. 'Herodiade's flea Was named sweet ...
Answers (Dame Edith Sitwell)
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