Introductory material
Reading edition
Last night Alicia wore a Tuscan Sonnet And many humming birds were fastened on it. Caught in a net of delicate creamy crêpe The dainty captives lay there dead together; No dart of slender bill, no fragile shape Fluttering, no stir of radiant feather; Alicia looked so calm, I wondered whether She cared if birds were killed to trim her bonnet. Her hand fell lightly on my hand; And I fancied that a stain of death Like that which doomed the Lady of Macbeth Was on her hand.
—Elizabeth Cavazza