Hilda Doolittle Poems

Amber husk
fluted with gold,
fruit on the sand
marked with a rich grain,
...

I have had enough.
I gasp for breath.

Every way ends, every road,
...

I should have thought
in a dream you would have brought
some lovely, perilous thing,
orchids piled in a great sheath,
...

Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens, and the sea
...

From citron-bower be her bed,
cut from branch of tree a-flower,
fashioned for her maidenhead.
...

O Hymen king.

Hymen, O Hymen king,
what bitter thing is this?
...

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;
...

Wash of cold river
in a glacial land,
Ionian water,
chill, snow-ribbed sand,
...

The light passes
from ridge to ridge,
from flower to flower—
the hepaticas, wide-spread
...

Bear me to Dictaeus,
and to the steep slopes;
to the river Erymanthus.
...