LOVELY Semiramis <br />Closes her slanting eyes: <br />Dead is she long ago. <br />From her fan, sliding slow, <br />Parrot-bright fire's feathers, <br />Gilded as June weathers, <br />Plumes bright and shrill as grass <br />Twinkle down; as they pass <br />Through the green glooms in Hell <br />Fruits with a tuneful smell, <br />Grapes like an emerald rain, <br />Where the full moon has lain, <br />Greengages bright as grass, <br />Melons as cold as glass, <br />Piled on each gilded booth, <br />Feel their cheeks growing smooth. <br />Apes in plumed head-dresses <br />Whence the bright heat hisses,-- <br />Nubian faces, sly <br />Pursing mouth, slanting eye, <br />Feel the Arabian <br />Winds floating from the fan.<br /><br />Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fan/
