There are some fascinating audio recordings of Edith Sitwell reading her work - worth tracking down, too. Her Collected Poems was recently reissued, and so... perhaps another revival is taking place?

In a piece coming soon to Poetry, Jhumpa Lahiri recalls being told by the late Alberto de Lacerda that Dame Edith had, among other things, "fabulous hands." I tracked down a photograph of her, and sure enough: she did!

I've always loved that Moore quote too, and thanks for the delightful Sitwell poem -- someone who's only been a name to me.

I'm going to go see who comes when I call for *my* syllabub.

I believe that Jarrell quotes the same poem you quoted as an example of Sitwell's early, comic style, which he (and other people) contrast with her later, and rather portentous, work about such subjects as the Blitz-- it's that work that earned her a reputation as "conservative," I guess. I'll be curious what you think of her when you've read more of her-- I haven't looked at her at length in a long time.

If there's really a Sitwell revival, who's next? It could be Conrad Aiken. I recommend-- I really do recommend-- this wonderful anthology piece from his book-length poem Senlin. If you are a fan of Madeline L'Engle-- and I believe, Ange, that you are-- you may find a few of the lines surprisingly familiar.

Our friend, the Poetry Tool, has info about Edith Sitwell here; "Still Falls the Rain" will live in the English language as long as, well, anthologies of English language poems and/or war exist...

Thanks for the links, Don-- I went back to look at "Still Falls the Rain," and I (still) don't quite participate wholeheartedly in your admiration: the first stanza carries me, certainly, but by the end? You could argue that a subject this big needs all the stops pulled out on the organ, that any more controlled or more subtle ending to a poem on this subject would ring false to the extremity of the experience-- but there's a religiosity (yes, "religiosity" is pejorative-- "religious feeling" is the neutral term) that scuttles the ending for me.

I love Facade, which I first encountered listening to the radio furtively at night as a teenager (don't ask), and it was so delightful and strange--in fact it was Sir Beelzebub in particular that hooked me. I had no idea who Sitwell was, or Walton, but I was into music and poetry and the idea they could go so completely together was novel. I haven't thought of it in an age, but it occurs to me it was actually pretty influential on me at some level--at least in early experiments.

Do you know Terri Witek's Carnal World? It has a whole section on The Sitwells--or rather on their sitting for John Singer Sargent... You might find it interesting.

Steve, I wasn't intending to express admiration for "Still Falls the Rain" as a poem, but rather for its odd longevity; similarly, along the lines of Riding and Graves, I was conveying that don't have much admiration for anthlogies, either. It's one thing to discover a Stiwell (or a Graves or a Riding (Jackson) in just the way this thread describes, another to be beset with set pieces! The discussion here actually illustrates the value of real reading and exploration as against the artificial elevation of a poem or poet here or there.

I would have recoiled from Sitwell had "After the Rain" been the first poem I came across!

Don, your thoughts about "the value of real reading and exploration" has much to do with my next post, which I was just sketching this morning. Serendipity!

I do know the Aiken poem (wasn't it in the Oscar Williams anth? What self-respecting poetic teenager didn't read that?). But I don't know Terri Witek...

Now that I see what Don was saying, I agree with him entirely. And I want to read that next post!

Facade has always impressed me as a great intro to some of the principles of avant-garde sound-poems—and I have always wondered why Sitwell goes on to abandon the inventive euphonies of these early works for a more dour tone of "conservatism" later in her career.

When I was asked to produce a syllabus for the field exams in our doctoral programme, I made sure to include this work by her on the list....

"I have always wondered why Sitwell goes on to abandon the inventive euphonies of these early works for a more dour tone of 'conservatism' later in her career."

Christian, that seems to be the trajectory of many an avant-gardist. Why do poets get conservative as they age? A topic for a separate blog entry, perhaps.

I know what you're saying, but I feel uncomfortable with it because it seems like a version of the dismissive comment (in the field of political beliefs) that "only the young can afford to be socialist"-- whereas this has a lot to do with larger historical cycles. Do poets get more conservative as they age? Not all, obviously; the best get more fiercely radical, with less and less to lose.

When poets do get more conservative, this seems to have something to do with the pressures of the market, or something like it, the need for survival, the desperation in search of an audience, or the cynical, defeated withdrawal into the depths of the self. It's never a pretty sight, and almost always, time and time again, a losing proposition: they never end up writing the great poetry they think they're going to write, and they risk being confined to the dustbin of history.