POEMS By EDITH SITWELL

MARCH FOR A TOY SOLDIER

I

Am

The great Alexander

Who killed the sly

Goosie Gander—

A bill of gold

And his feet all cold

And the moon for a silvery spoon—all told!

Now each flower-bed

Seems a foreign land

Where I must tread

And as conqueror stand;

And the flower-bells seem

Crowned kings and peoples

And gay bells rung in the

Conquered steeples!

97

The Great Alexander.

98

DIRGE FOR A GOLLYWOG

Sambo is dead.

Though he was black

He had, I said,

Of love no lack.

The green leaves sound

Like the wind in tears:

Lay him in ground

Beside his peers!

We’ll bury him under

The cherry-tree,

And the cherries darker

Than ever will be!

Edith Sitwell.

99

We’ll bury him under The cherry-tree.

100

THE LITTLE MUSICAL BOX

When the Queen of China

Took her tea in spring,

From my little music-box

The birds began to sing:

The parrot’s was a flowery note

As dark as her locks be—

The nightingale’s the moon’s tears

That bud in fields of tea.

And the young Queen of China,

So beautiful to see,

Walked like the moon

To a silver tune

Beneath her nutmeg-tree;

And she flew like the singing birds

To pluck me from the air

The moon, a silver nutmeg,

The sun, a golden pear!

Edith Sitwell.

101

When the Queen of China Took her tea in spring....

102