Evadne Poem by Hilda Doolittle

Evadne

Rating: 2.6


I first tasted under Apollo's lips,
love and love sweetness,
I, Evadne;
my hair is made of crisp violets
or hyacinth which the wind combs back
across some rock shelf;
I, Evadne,
was made of the god of light.

His hair was crisp to my mouth,
as the flower of the crocus,
across my cheek,
cool as the silver-cress
on Erotos bank;
between my chin and throat,
his mouth slipped over and over.

Still between my arm and shoulder,
I feel the brush of his hair,
and my hands keep the gold they took,
as they wandered over and over,
that great arm-full of yellow flowers.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 01 October 2015

Gorgeous. Not a word I would often use to describe a poem. But this piece is voluptuous, gorgeous, sumptuous.

32 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Hilda Doolittle

Hilda Doolittle

Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
Close
Error Success