Quote #17
Within your magic web of hair, lies furled The fire and splendour of the ancient world; The dire gold of the comet's wind-blown hair; The songs that turned to gold the evening air When all the stars of heaven sang for joy.
More from Edith Sitwell
- Tall windows show Infinity; And, hard reality, The candles weep and pry and dance Like lives mocked at by Chance. The rooms are vast as Sle…
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- The busy chatter of the heat Shrilled like a parakeet; And shuddering at the noonday light The dust lay dead and white As powder on a mummy…
- Oh how the Vacancy Laughed at them rushing by. 'Turn again, flesh and brain, Only yourselves again! How far above the ape Differing in each…
- Hot water is my native element. I was in it as a baby, and I have never seemed to get out of it ever since.
- 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.
- I am one of those unhappy persons who inspire bores to the greatest flights of art.
- Still falls the Rain At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross. Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us -