Poems by Dame Edith Sitwell
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Still Falls the Rain
... Still falls the RainIn the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain ...
When Cold December
... The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees-- ...
Bells Of Gray Crystal
... Two people go, Trail their long codas ...
Four in the Morning
... Why am I lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd ...
By The Lake
... ' 'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees ...
Aubade
... Eternities of kitchen garden,Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck, ...
Clowns' Houses
... All wand'ring sounds that passSeemed out of tune, as if the light ...
The Fan
... Plumes bright and shrill as grass ...
Came the Great Popinjay
... Oh, what a dance was there! ...
Heart And Mind
... Though the fire of that sun the heart and the moon-cold bone are one ...
Portrait Of A Barmaid
... Those coloured muslin blinds the smiles, ...
Solo For Ear-Trumpet
... "The What?" "THE TRUMP!" "I shall complain! ...
The Web Of Eros
... The myrrh-lit flame that gave both death and birth ...
The Lady With The Sewing-Machine
... if at all, Spring comes like a Paisley shawl ...
Poetry
... It discovers the secret rays of the universe, ...
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