the poems of Dame Edith Sitwell

[اسبيرانزا]

Bells Of Gray Crystal



Bells of gray crystal
Break on each bough--
The swans' breath will mist all
The cold airs now.
Like tall pagodas
Two people go,
Trail their long codas
Of talk through the snow.
Lonely are these
And lonely and I ....
The clouds, gray Chinese geese
Sleek through the sky.

[اسبيرانزا]

By The Lake





ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow

Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember

When last we wandered this shore?' . . . 'Ah no!

For it is cold-hearted December.'

'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees

When last we wandered and squandered joy here;

Now Midas your husband will listen for these

Whispers--these tears for joy's bier.'

And as they walk, they seem tall pagodas;

And all the ropes let down from the cloud

Ring the hard cold bell-buds upon the trees--codas

Of overtones, ecstasies, grown for love's shroud

[اسبيرانزا]

Came the Great Popinjay





CAME the great Popinjay

Smelling his nosegay:

In cages like grots

The birds sang gavottes.

'Herodiade's flea

Was named sweet Amanda,

She danced like a lady

From here to Uganda.

Oh, what a dance was there!

Long-haired, the candle

Salome-like tossed her hair

To a dance tune by Handel.' . . .

Dance they still? Then came

Courtier Death,

Blew out the candle flame

With civet breath.