'Four in the Morning'

from Faηade

General Information – Performing Forces – Manuscript – Publication – Arrangements – Recordings – Text

General Information:

Text:
Dame Edith Sitwell (1887–1964)
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Cried the navy-blue ghost
Of Mr. Belaker
The allegro negro cocktail-shaker:
'Why did the cock crow,
Why am I lost
Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd?'
The tropical leaves are whispering whate as water;
I race the wind in my flight down the promenade,
                    edging the far-off sand
Is the foam of the sirens' Metropole and Grande, —
As I raced through the leaves as white as water
My ghost flowed over a nursemaid, caught her,
And there I saw the lone grass weep,
Where the guinea-fowl-plumaged houses sleep,
And the sweet ring-doves of curded milk
Watch the Infanta's gown of silk
In the ghost-room tall where the governante
            Whisper slyly, fading andante.
In at the window then looked he,
The navy-blue ghost of Mr. Belaker,
The allegro negro cocktail-shaker, —
And his flattened face like the moon saw she, —
Rhinoceros-black yet flowing like the sea.

— Dame Edith Sitwell (1887–1964)

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