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 quince and box-wood overlaid
with the scented bark of yew.
That all the wood in blossoming,
may calm her heart and cool her blood,
for losing of her maidenhood.
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Comments about this poem (From Citron-Bower by Hilda Doolittle )
- High rise, hasmukh amathalal
- Before Death, Ajaeyy Raaj
- the toothless Tiger Dynasties, veeraiyah subbulakshmi
- The Spray, Akhtar Jawad
- Think and breathe, hasmukh amathalal
- Love for care, hasmukh amathalal
- Your style, hasmukh amathalal
- Sonnet: Living in Light, Dr John Celes
- The price of civilization, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Looks matter in affection., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
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