Hilda Doolittle Poems (21 Poems)
Orchard (Hilda Doolittle Poems)
I saw the first pearas it fell–the honey-seeking, golden-banded,the yellow swarmwas not more fleet than I,(spare us from loveliness)and I fell prostratecrying:you have flayed uswith your blossoms,spare us the beautyof fruit-trees. The honey-seekingpaused not,the air thundered their song,and I alone … Continue reading
The Mysteries Remain (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed-time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass, I multiply, renew and bless Bacchus in the vine; I hold the law, I keep the mysteries true, the first of … Continue reading
The Pool (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea-fish. I cover you with my net. What are you – banded one? (Hilda Doolittle)
Wash of Cold River (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow-ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers, clear, with delicate shell- like leaf enclosing frozen lily-leaf, camellia texture, colder than a rose; wind-flower that keeps the breath of the north-wind … Continue reading
Pear Tree (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver, higher than my arms reach you front us with great mass; no flower ever opened so staunch a white leaf, no flower ever parted … Continue reading
Sea Poppies (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure spilled near the shrub-pines to bleach on the boulders: your stalk has caught root among wet pebbles and drift flung by the sea and grated … Continue reading
Sea Rose (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious than a wet rose single on a stem – you are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, you are flung on … Continue reading
Sheltered Garden (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest – then you retrace your steps, or find the same slope on the other side, precipitate. I have had … Continue reading
Stars Wheel in Purple (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
Stars wheel in purple, yours is not so rare as Hesperus, nor yet so great a star as bright Aldeboran or Sirius, nor yet the stained and brilliant one of War; stars turn in purple, glorious to the sight; yours … Continue reading
From Citron-Bower (Hilda Doolittle Poem)
From citron-bower be her bed, cut from branch of tree a-flower, fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, cut the width of board and lathe, carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed be … Continue reading
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