The Fan
mee sae Lovely Semiramis Closes her slanting eyes: Dead is she long ago. From her fan, sliding slow, Parrot-bright fire’s : feathers, Gilded as June weathers, Plumes bright and shrill as grass Twinkle down; as they. pass Through the green glooms in Hell Fruits with a tuneful smell, Grapes like an emerald rain, ‘Where the full. moon. has lain. Greengages .bright as glass, Piles on each gilded booth, Feel their cheeks growing smooth. Apes in plumed ‘head-dresses Whence the bright heat hissesNubian faces, sly _ Pursing mouth, slanting eye, Feel the Arabian ; Winds floating from the fan.
Edith
Sitwell
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19310807.2.62
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Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 4, 7 August 1931, Page 34
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99The Fan Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 4, 7 August 1931, Page 34
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