All Poems

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Clowns' Houses

© Dame Edith Sitwell

BENEATH the flat and paper sky
The sun, a demon's eye,
Glowed through the air, that mask of glass;
All wand'ring sounds that pass

Aubade

© Dame Edith Sitwell

JANE, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again;

By The Lake

© Dame Edith Sitwell

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.'

Four in the Morning

© Dame Edith Sitwell

Cried the navy-blue ghost
Of Mr. Belaker
The allegro Negro cocktail-shaker,
"Why did the cock crow,

Bells Of Gray Crystal

© Dame Edith Sitwell

Bells of gray crystal
Break on each bough--
The swans' breath will mist all
The cold airs now.

When Cold December

© Dame Edith Sitwell

WHEN cold December
Froze to grisamber
The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees--
Then fading slow

Still Falls the Rain

© Dame Edith Sitwell

Still falls the Rain---
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.

Thus the Mayne glideth

© Robert Browning

THUS the Mayne glideth
Where my Love abideth;
Sleep 's no softer: it proceeds
On through lawns, on through meads,

Dtatue And The Bust, The

© Robert Browning

There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well,
And a statue watches it from the square,
And this story of both do our townsmen tell.

Protus

© Robert Browning

Here's John the Smith's rough-hammered head. Great eye,
Gross jaw and griped lips do what granite can
To give you the crown-grasper. What a man!

"Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes"

© Robert Browning

Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls

Over the Sea our Galleys Went

© Robert Browning

Over the sea our galleys went,
With cleaving prows in order brave,
To a speeding wind and a bounding wave,

Instans Tyrannus

© Robert Browning

Of the million or two, more or less,
I rule and possess,
One man, for some cause undefined,
Was least to my mind.

Cavalier Tunes: Give a Rouse

King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in Hell's despite now,
King Charles!

Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along

Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,

De Gustibus---

I.Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees,
(If our loves remain)
In an English lane,
By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies.

An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Kar

Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,
The not-incurious in God's handiwork
(This man's-flesh he hath admirably made,
Blown like a bubble, kneaded like a paste,

To Edward Fitzgerald

I chanced upon a new book yesterday;
I opened it, and, where my finger lay
'Twixt page and uncut page, these words I read -
Some six or seven at most - and learned thereby

Christ God who savest man, save most
Of men Count Gismond who saved me!
Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,
Chose time and place and company
To suit it; when he struck at length
My honour, 'twas with all his strength.

Song from 'Paracelsus'

HEAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smear'd with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls