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. Heart And Mind 4/2/2010
11. Bells Of Gray Crystal 1/13/2003
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. Four In The Morning 1/1/2004
19. Still Falls The Rain 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell

Still Falls The Rain

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.

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet

On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain

In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that...

Read the full of Still Falls The Rain

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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