Solo for Ear-Trumpet

Dame Edith Sitwell

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The carriage brushes through the bright
Leaves (violent jets from life to light);
Strong polished speed is plunging, heaves
Between the showers of bright hot leaves
The window-glasses glaze our faces
And jar them to the very basis —
But they could never put a polish
Upon my manners or abolish
My most distinct disinclination
For calling on a rich relation!
In her house — (bulwark built between
The life man lives and visions seen) —
The sunlight hiccups white as chalk,
Grown drunk with emptiness of talk,
And silence hisses like a snake —
Invertebrate and rattling ache....
Then suddenly Eternity
Drowns all the houses like a sea
And down the street the Trump of Doom
Blares madly — shakes the drawing-room
Where raw-edged shadows sting forlorn
As dank dark nettles. Down the horn
Of her ear-trumpet I convey
The news that "It is Judgment Day!"
"Speak louder: I don't catch, my dear."
I roared: "It is the Trump we hear!"
"The What?" "THE TRUMP!" "I shall complain!
.... the boy-scouts practising again."

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  • shnnnbratcher

    I remember reading this when I was younger! Can someone explain the meaning behind the ear-trumpet part?

    • aphusmannoel

      Juts finished reading this and wow! Truly a mad, colourful ride, and the humor is so unexpected too. It's whimsical and yet deep, filled with rich descriptions. Loved the imagery and the sly wit of the poem.