Here you will find the Poem Interlude of poet Dame Edith Sitwell
Mid this hot green glowing gloom A word falls with a raindrop's boom... Like baskets of ripe fruit in air The bird-songs seem, suspended where Those goldfinches--the ripe warm lights Peck slyly at them--take quick flights. My feet are feathered like a bird Among the shadows scarcely heard; I bring you branches green with dew And fruits that you may crown anew Your whirring waspish-gilded hair Amid this cornucopia-- Until your warm lips bear the stains And bird-blood leap within your veins.
