Mid this hot green glowing gloom <br />A word falls with a raindrop's boom... <br /> <br />Like baskets of ripe fruit in air <br />The bird-songs seem, suspended where <br /> <br />Those goldfinches--the ripe warm lights <br />Peck slyly at them--take quick flights. <br /> <br />My feet are feathered like a bird <br />Among the shadows scarcely heard; <br /> <br />I bring you branches green with dew <br />And fruits that you may crown anew <br /> <br />Your whirring waspish-gilded hair <br />Amid this cornucopia-- <br /> <br />Until your warm lips bear the stains <br />And bird-blood leap within your veins.<br /><br />Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/interlude-14/
