The Dean & I

I first discovered Edith Sitwell's poetry in an old book at my grandmother's house, years ago. I didn't know that she was a cousin of Tilda Swinton, or for that matter who Tilda Swinton was, although now that I've learned both, sure. What I could tell is that this was bold verse, making up its own standards as it went along. Like nothing else. 

What the Goose-Girl Said About the Dean

Turn again, turn again,

Goose Clothilda, Goosie Jane.

Bright wooden waves of people creak

From houses built with coloured straws

Of heat; Dean Pasppus’ long nose snores

Harsh as a hautbois, marshy-weak.

The wooden waves of people creak

Through the fields all water-sleek.

And in among the straws of light

Those bumpkin hautbois-sounds take flight.

Whence he lies snoring like the moon

Clownish-white all afternoon.

Beneath the trees’ arsenical

Sharp woodwind tunes; heretical—

Blown like the wind’s mane

(Creaking woodenly again).

His wandering thoughts escape like geese

Till he, their gooseherd, sets up chase,

And clouds of wool join the bright race

For scattered old simplicities.

Modernist poetry that was a little doubtful of modernity. May or may not mean something that this was published in 1919, just a little after a multi-year event that scattered quite a few old simplicities.