Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell

(7 September 1887 - 9 December 1964 / Scarborough, Yorkshire)

Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell Poems

1. Scotch Rhapsody 3/9/2012
2. Interlude 4/2/2010
3. Eventail 4/2/2010
4. Poetry 4/2/2010
5. Solo For Ear-Trumpet 4/2/2010
6. The Dancers: (During A Great Battle, 1916) 4/2/2010
7. The Lady With The Sewing-Machine 4/2/2010
8. The Web Of Eros 4/2/2010
9. Portrait Of A Barmaid 4/2/2010
10. Bells Of Gray Crystal 1/13/2003
11. Heart And Mind 4/2/2010
12. Came The Great Popinjay 1/1/2004
13. By The Lake 1/1/2004
14. The Fan 1/1/2004
15. Aubade 1/1/2004
16. When Cold December 1/1/2004
17. Clowns' Houses 1/1/2004
18. Still Falls The Rain 1/1/2004
19. Four In The Morning 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell

Four In The Morning

Cried the navy-blue ghost
Of Mr. Belaker
The allegro Negro cocktail-shaker,
"Why did the cock crow,
Why am I lost,
Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd?
The tropical leaves are whispering white
As water; I race the wind in my flight.
The white lace houses are carried away
By the tide; far out they float and sway.
White is the nursemaid on the parade.
Is she real, as she flirts with me unafraid?
I raced through the leaves as white as water...
Ghostly, flowed over the nursemaid, caught her,
Left her...edging the far-off sand
Is the foam of the ...

Read the full of Four In The Morning

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;

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