Poem by Edith Louisa Sitwell

By Candlelight

Houses red as flower of bean,
Flickering leaves and shadows lean!
Pantalone, like a parrot,
Sat and grumbled in the garret,
Sat and growled and grumbled till
Moon upon the window-sill,
Like a red geranium,
Scented his bald cranium.
Said Brighella, meaning well--
“Pack your box and--go to Hell!
Heat will cure your rheumatism.”
Silence crowned this optimism.
Not a sound and not a wail--
But the fire (lush leafy vale)
Watched the angry feathers fly.
Pantalone ’gan to cry--
Could not, _would_ not, pack his box.
Shadows (curtseying hens and cocks)
Pecking in the attic gloom,
Tried to smother his tail-plume....
Till a cock’s comb candle-flame,
Crowing loudly, died: Dawn came.

1. Mandoline
2. Falsetto Song
3. Eventail
4. The Girl with the Lint-White Locks
5. The Avenue

Sylvia Plath By Candlelight ("This is winter, this is night, small love")

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