<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360250" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Aubade</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">JANE, Jane, <br>Tall as a crane, <br>The morning light creaks down again;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, <br>Jane, Jane, come down the stair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each dull blunt wooden stalactite <br>Of rain creaks, hardened by the light,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sounding like an overtone <br>From some lonely world unknown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the creaking empty light <br>Will never harden into sight,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will never penetrate your brain <br>With overtones like the blunt rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light would show (if it could harden) <br>Eternities of kitchen garden,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck, <br>And wooden flowers that 'gin to cluck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the kitchen you must light <br>Flames as staring, red and white,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As carrots or as turnips shining <br>Where the cold dawn light lies whining.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cockscomb hair on the cold wind <br>Hangs limp, turns the milk's weak mind . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jane, Jane, <br>Tall as a crane, <br>The morning light creaks down again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dame+Edith+Louisa+Sitwell">Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360250" data-title="Aubade de Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell" data-description="JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again; Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down the stair. Each dull blunt wooden stalactite Of rain creaks, hardened by the light, Sounding like an overtone From som..."></div> </div> </div>

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