Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BUCOLIC COMEDY: POOR MARTHA, by EDITH SITWELL


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BUCOLIC COMEDY: POOR MARTHA, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: By white wool houses thick with sleep
Last Line: Poor martha, since her love is drowned.


BY white wool houses thick with sleep,
Wherein pig-snouted small winds creep,

With our white muslin faces clean,
We slip to see what can be seen.

Those rustling corn-sheaves the gold stars
Drop grain between the window-bars

Among dark leaves, all velvety --
(So seem the shadows) and we see

Crazed Martha tie up her brown hair
With the moon's blue ribbons, stare

At candles that are lit in vain --
They cannot penetrate her brain:

Their tinsel jargon seems to be
Incomprehensibility

To Martha's mind, though every word
Of her's they echo, like that bird

Of brilliant plumage, whose words please
The Indians by their bright-plumed seas.

The Fair's tunes bloom like myosotis,
Smooth-perfumed stephanotis;

We children come with twisted curls
Like golden corn-sheaves, or fat pearls,

Like ondines in blue muslin dance
Around her; never once a glance

She gives us: "Can my love be true?
He promised he would bring me blue

Ribbons to tie up my brown hair.
He promised me both smooth and fair

That he would dive through brightest plumes
Of Indian seas for pearls, where glooms

The moon's blue ray; in her sleeping-chamber
Find me Thetis' fan of amber."

* * * * *

The candles preen and sleek their feathers . . .
"Pretty lady!" "Sweet June weathers."

But silence now lies all around
Poor Martha, since her love is drowned.





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