Bear me to Dictaeus,
and to the steep slopes;
to the river Erymanthus.
I choose spray of dittany,
cyperum, frail of flower,
buds of myrrh,
all-healing herbs,
close pressed in calathes.
For she lies panting,
drawing sharp breath,
broken with harsh sobs.
she, Hyella,
whom no god pities.
(Hilda Doolittle)
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Based on Topics: Flowers Poems, Drawing & Painting PoemsBased on Keywords: spray, pressed, harsh, buds, panting, sobs, slopes, herbs, myrrh, pities, dittany