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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hymen
+
+Author: Hilda Doolittle
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYMEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  +------------------------------------------------------------+
+  | Transcriber's Note                                         |
+  |                                                            |
+  | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in        |
+  | this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of   |
+  | this document.                                             |
+  +------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+HYMEN
+
+By
+
+H. D.
+
+NEW YORK
+HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+1921
+
+
+
+
+FOR BRYHER AND PERDITA
+
+
+
+
+    _They said:
+    she is high and far and blind
+    in her high pride,
+    but now that my head is bowed
+    in sorrow, I find
+    she is most kind._
+
+    _We have taken life, they said,
+    blithely, not groped in a mist
+    for things that are not--
+    are if you will, but bloodless--
+    why ask happiness of the dead?
+    and my heart bled._
+
+    _Ah, could they know
+    how violets throw strange fire,
+    red and purple and gold,
+    how they glow
+    gold and purple and red
+    where her feet tread._
+
+
+
+
+Acknowledgements are due to the editors of the following periodicals in
+which certain of these poems have appeared: _Poetry_ (Chicago), _The
+Dial_, _Contact_ and _The Bookman_ (New York), _The Nation_, _The
+Sphere_, _The Anglo-French Review_ and _The Egoist_ (London).
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+HYMEN                                        7
+
+DEMETER                                     15
+
+SIMAETHA                                    19
+
+THETIS                                      20
+
+CIRCE                                       21
+
+LEDA                                        23
+
+HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES                       24
+
+CUCKOO SONG                                 25
+
+THE ISLANDS                                 27
+
+AT BAIA                                     30
+
+SEA HEROES                                  31
+
+"NOT HONEY"                                 33
+
+EVADNE                                      34
+
+SONG                                        35
+
+WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT                         36
+
+THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD                       37
+
+PHAEDRA                                     38
+
+SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA        40
+
+SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA                       42
+
+EGYPT                                       44
+
+HELIOS                                      45
+
+PRAYER                                      47
+
+
+
+
+HYMEN
+
+
+_As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a
+queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the
+curtain--a dark purple hung between Ionic columns--of the porch or open
+hall of a palace. Their hair is bound as the marble hair of the temple
+Hera. Each wears a crown or diadem of gold._
+
+_They sing--the music is temple music, deep, simple, chanting notes:_
+
+    From the closed garden
+    Where our feet pace
+    Back and forth each day,
+    This gladiolus white,
+    This red, this purple spray--
+    Gladiolus tall with dignity
+    As yours, lady--we lay
+    Before your feet and pray:
+
+    Of all the blessings--
+    Youth, joy, ecstasy--
+    May one gift last
+    (As the tall gladiolus may
+    Outlast the wind-flower,
+    Winter-rose or rose),
+    One gift above,
+    Encompassing all those;
+
+    For her, for him,
+    For all within these palace walls,
+    Beyond the feast,
+    Beyond the cry of Hymen and the torch,
+    Beyond the night and music
+    Echoing through the porch till day.
+
+_The music, with its deep chanting notes, dies away. The curtain hangs
+motionless in rich, full folds. Then from this background of darkness,
+dignity and solemn repose, a flute gradually detaches itself, becomes
+clearer and clearer, pipes alone one shrill, simple little melody._
+
+_From the distance, four children's voices blend with the flute, and
+four very little girls pass singly before the curtain, small maids or
+attendants of the sixteen matrons. Their hair is short and curls at the
+back of their heads like the hair of the chryselephantine Hermes. They
+sing:_
+
+    Where the first crocus buds unfold
+    We found these petals near the cold
+      Swift river-bed.
+
+    Beneath the rocks where ivy-frond
+    Puts forth new leaves to gleam beyond
+      Those lately dead:
+
+    The very smallest two or three
+    Of gold (gold pale as ivory)
+      We gatherèd.
+
+_When the little girls have passed before the curtain, a wood-wind
+weaves a richer note into the flute melody; then the two blend into one
+song. But as the wood-wind grows in mellowness and richness, the flute
+gradually dies away into a secondary theme and the wood-wind alone
+evolves the melody of a new song._
+
+_Two by two--like two sets of medallions with twin profiles distinct,
+one head slightly higher, bent forward a little--the four figures of
+four slight, rather fragile taller children, are outlined with sharp
+white contour against the curtain._
+
+_The hair is smooth against the heads, falling to the shoulders but
+slightly waved against the nape of the neck. They are looking down, each
+at a spray of winter-rose. The tunics fall to the knees in sharp marble
+folds. They sing:_
+
+    Never more will the wind
+    Cherish you again,
+    Never more will the rain.
+
+    Never more
+    Shall we find you bright
+    In the snow and wind.
+
+    The snow is melted,
+    The snow is gone,
+    And you are flown:
+
+    Like a bird out of our hand,
+    Like a light out of our heart,
+    You are gone.
+
+_As the wistful notes of the wood-wind gradually die away, there comes a
+sudden, shrill, swift piping._
+
+_Free and wild, like the wood-maidens of Artemis, is this last group of
+four--very straight with heads tossed back. They sing in rich, free,
+swift notes. They move swiftly before the curtain in contrast to the
+slow, important pace of the first two groups. Their hair is loose and
+rayed out like that of the sun-god. They are boyish in shape and
+gesture. They carry hyacinths in baskets, strapped like quivers to their
+backs. They reach to draw the flower sprays from the baskets, as the
+Huntress her arrows._
+
+_As they dart swiftly to and fro before the curtain, they are youth,
+they are spring--they are the Chelidonia, their song is the swallow-song
+of joy:_
+
+    Between the hollows
+    Of the little hills
+    The spring spills blue--
+    Turquoise, sapphire, lapis-lazuli
+    On a brown cloth outspread.
+
+    Ah see,
+    How carefully we lay them now,
+    Each hyacinth spray,
+    Across the marble floor--
+    A pattern your bent eyes
+    May trace and follow
+    To the shut bridal door.
+
+    Lady, our love, our dear,
+    Our bride most fair,
+    They grew among the hollows
+    Of the hills;
+    As if the sea had spilled its blue,
+    As if the sea had risen
+    From its bed,
+    And sinking to the level of the shore,
+    Left hyacinths on the floor.
+
+_There is a pause. Flute, pipe and wood-wind blend in a full, rich
+movement. There is no definite melody but full, powerful rhythm like
+soft but steady wind above forest trees. Into this, like rain, gradually
+creeps the note of strings._
+
+_As the strings grow stronger and finally dominate the whole, the
+bride-chorus passes before the curtain. There may be any number in this
+chorus. The figures--tall young women, clothed in long white
+tunics--follow one another closely, yet are all distinct like a
+procession of a temple frieze._
+
+_The bride in the center is not at first distinguishable from her
+maidens; but as they begin their song, the maidens draw apart into two
+groups, leaving the veiled symbolic figure standing alone in the
+center._
+
+_The two groups range themselves to right and left like officiating
+priestesses. The veiled figure stands with her back against the curtain,
+the others being in profile. Her head is swathed in folds of diaphanous
+white, through which the features are visible, like the veiled Tanagra._
+
+_When the song is finished, the group to the bride's left turns about;
+also the bride, so that all face in one direction. In processional form
+they pass out, the figure of the bride again merging, not
+distinguishable from the maidens._
+
+_Strophe_
+
+    But of her
+    Who can say if she is fair?
+    Bound with fillet,
+    Bound with myrtle
+    Underneath her flowing veil,
+    Only the soft length
+    (Beneath her dress)
+    Of saffron shoe is bright
+    As a great lily-heart
+    In its white loveliness.
+
+_Antistrophe_
+
+    But of her
+    We can say that she is fair.
+    We bleached the fillet,
+    Brought the myrtle;
+    To us the task was set
+    Of knotting the fine threads of silk:
+    We fastened the veil,
+    And over the white foot
+    Drew on the painted shoe
+    Steeped in Illyrian crocus.
+
+_Strophe_
+
+    But of her,
+    Who can say if she is fair?
+    For her head is covered over
+    With her mantle
+    White on white,
+    Snow on whiter amaranth,
+    Snow on hoar-frost,
+    Snow on snow,
+    Snow on whitest buds of myrrh.
+
+_Antistrophe_
+
+    But of her,
+    We can say that she is fair;
+    For we know underneath
+    All the wanness,
+    All the heat
+    (In her blanched face)
+    Of desire
+    Is caught in her eyes as fire
+    In the dark center leaf
+    Of the white Syrian iris.
+
+_The rather hard, hieratic precision of the music--its stately pause and
+beat--is broken now into irregular lilt and rhythm of strings._
+
+_Four tall young women, very young matrons, enter in a group. They stand
+clear and fair, but this little group entirely lacks the austere
+precision of the procession of maidens just preceding them. They pause
+in the center of the stage; turn, one three-quarter, two in profile and
+the fourth full face; they stand, turned as if confiding in each other
+like a Tanagra group._
+
+_They sing lightly, their flower trays under their arms._
+
+    Along the yellow sand
+    Above the rocks
+    The laurel-bushes stand.
+    Against the shimmering heat
+    Each separate leaf
+    Is bright and cold,
+    And through the bronze
+    Of shining bark and wood
+    Run the fine threads of gold.
+
+    Here in our wicker-trays,
+    We bring the first faint blossoming
+    Of fragrant bays:
+
+    Lady, their blushes shine
+    As faint in hue
+    As when through petals
+    Of a laurel-rose
+    The sun shines through,
+    And throws a purple shadow
+    On a marble vase.
+
+    (Ah, love,
+    So her fair breasts will shine
+    With the faint shadow above.)
+
+_The harp chords become again more regular in simple definite rhythm.
+The music is not so intense as the bride-chorus; and quieter, more
+sedate, than the notes preceding the entrance of the last group._
+
+_Five or six slightly older serene young women enter in processional
+form; each holding before her, with precise bending of arms, coverlets
+and linen, carefully folded, as if for the bride couch. The garments are
+purple, scarlet and deep blue, with edge of gold._
+
+_They sing to blending of wood-wind and harp._
+
+    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.
+
+_The wood-winds become more rich and resonant. A tall youth crosses the
+stage as if seeking the bride door. The music becomes very rich, full of
+color._
+
+_The figure itself is a flame, an exaggerated symbol; the hair a flame;
+the wings, deep red or purple, stand out against the curtains in a
+contrasting or almost clashing shade of purple. The tunic, again a rich
+purple or crimson, falls almost to the knees. The knees are bare; the
+sandals elaborately strapped over and over. The curtain seems a rich
+purple cloud, the figure, still brighter, like a flamboyant bird, half
+emerged in the sunset._
+
+_Love pauses just outside the bride's door with his gift, a tuft of
+black-purple cyclamen. He sings to the accompaniment of wood-winds, in a
+rich, resonant voice:_
+
+    The crimson cover of her bed
+    Is not so rich, nor so deeply bled
+    The purple-fish that dyed it red,
+    As when in a hot sheltered glen
+    There flowered these stalks of cyclamen:
+
+    (Purple with honey-points
+    Of horns for petals;
+    Sweet and dark and crisp,
+    As fragrant as her maiden kiss.)
+
+    There with his honey-seeking lips
+    The bee clings close and warmly sips,
+    And seeks with honey-thighs to sway
+    And drink the very flower away.
+
+    (Ah, stern the petals drawing back;
+    Ah rare, ah virginal her breath!)
+
+    Crimson, with honey-seeking lips,
+    The sun lies hot across his back,
+    The gold is decked across his wings.
+    Quivering he sways and quivering clings
+    (Ah, rare her shoulders drawing back!)
+    One moment, then the plunderer slips
+    Between the purple flower-lips.
+
+_Love passes out with a crash of cymbals. There is a momentary pause and
+the music falls into its calm, wave-like rhythm._
+
+_A band of boys passes before the curtain. They pass from side to side,
+crossing and re-crossing; but their figures never confuse one another,
+the outlines are never blurred. They stand out against the curtain with
+symbolic gesture, stooping as if to gather up the wreaths, or swaying
+with long stiff branch as if to sweep the fallen petals from the
+floor._
+
+_There is no marked melody from the instruments, but the boys' voices,
+humming lightly as they enter, gradually evolve a little dance song.
+There are no words but the lilt up and down of the boys' tenor voices._
+
+_Then, as if they had finished the task of gathering up the wreaths and
+sweeping the petals, they stand in groups of two before the pillars
+where the torches have been placed. They lift the torches from the
+brackets. They hold them aloft between them, one torch to each two boys.
+Their figures are cut against the curtain like the simple, triangular
+design on the base of a vase or frieze--the boys' heads on a level, the
+torches above them._
+
+_They sing in clear, half-subdued voices._
+
+    Where love is king,
+    Ah, there is little need
+    To dance and sing,
+    With bridal-torch to flare
+    Amber and scatter light
+    Across the purple air,
+    To sing and dance
+    To flute-note and to reed.
+
+    Where love is come
+    (Ah, love is come indeed!)
+    Our limbs are numb
+    Before his fiery need;
+    With all their glad
+    Rapture of speech unsaid,
+    Before his fiery lips
+    Our lips are mute and dumb.
+
+    Ah, sound of reed,
+    Ah, flute and trumpet wail,
+    Ah, joy decreed--
+    The fringes of her veil
+    Are seared and white;
+    Across the flare of light,
+    Blinded the torches fail.
+    (Ah, love is come indeed!)
+
+_At the end of the song, the torches flicker out and the figures are no
+longer distinguishable in the darkness. They pass out like shadows. The
+purple curtain hangs black and heavy._
+
+_The music dies away and is finally cut short with a few deep, muted
+chords._
+
+
+
+
+DEMETER
+
+
+    I
+
+    Men, fires, feasts,
+    steps of temple, fore-stone, lintel,
+    step of white altar, fire and after-fire,
+    slaughter before,
+    fragment of burnt meat,
+    deep mystery, grapple of mind to reach
+    the tense thought,
+    power and wealth, purpose and prayer alike,
+    (men, fires, feasts, temple steps)--useless.
+
+    Useless to me who plant
+    wide feet on a mighty plinth,
+    useless to me who sit,
+    wide of shoulder, great of thigh,
+    heavy in gold, to press
+    gold back against solid back
+    of the marble seat:
+    useless the dragons wrought on the arms,
+    useless the poppy-buds and the gold inset
+    of the spray of wheat.
+
+    Ah they have wrought me heavy
+    and great of limb--
+    she is slender of waist,
+    slight of breast, made of many fashions;
+    they have set _her_ small feet
+    on many a plinth;
+    she they have known,
+    she they have spoken with,
+    she they have smiled upon,
+    she they have caught
+    and flattered with praise and gifts.
+
+    But useless the flattery
+    of the mighty power
+    they have granted me:
+    for I will not stay in her breast
+    the great of limb,
+    though perfect the shell they have
+    fashioned me, these men!
+
+    Do I sit in the market place--
+    do I smile, does a noble brow
+    bend like the brow of Zeus--
+    am I a spouse, his or any,
+    am I a woman, or goddess or queen,
+    to be met by a god with a smile--and left?
+
+
+    II
+
+    Do you ask for a scroll,
+    parchment, oracle, prophecy, precedent;
+    do you ask for tablets marked with thought
+    or words cut deep on the marble surface,
+    do you seek measured utterance or the mystic trance?
+
+    Sleep on the stones of Delphi--
+    dare the ledges of Pallas
+    but keep me foremost,
+    keep me before you, after you, with you,
+    never forget when you start
+    for the Delphic precipice,
+    never forget when you seek Pallas
+    and meet in thought
+    yourself drawn out from yourself
+    like the holy serpent,
+    never forget
+    in thought or mysterious trance--
+    I am greatest and least.
+
+    Soft are the hands of Love,
+    soft, soft are his feet;
+    you who have twined myrtle,
+    have you brought crocuses,
+    white as the inner
+    stript bark of the osier,
+    have you set
+    black crocus against the black
+    locks of another?
+
+
+    III
+
+    Of whom do I speak?
+
+    Many the children of gods
+    but first I take
+    Bromios, fostering prince,
+    lift from the ivy brake, a king.
+
+    Enough of the lightning,
+    enough of the tales that speak
+    of the death of the mother:
+    strange tales of a shelter
+    brought to the unborn,
+    enough of tale, myth, mystery, precedent--
+    a child lay on the earth asleep.
+
+    Soft are the hands of Love,
+    but what soft hands
+    clutched at the thorny ground,
+    scratched like a small white ferret
+    or foraging whippet or hound,
+    sought nourishment and found
+    only the crackling of ivy,
+    dead ivy leaf and the white
+    berry, food for a bird,
+    no food for this who sought,
+    bending small head in a fever,
+    whining with little breath.
+
+    Ah, small black head,
+    ah, the purple ivy bush,
+    ah, berries that shook and spilt
+    on the form beneath,
+    who begot you and left?
+
+    Though I begot no man child
+    all my days,
+    the child of my heart and spirit,
+    is the child the gods desert
+    alike and the mother in death--
+    the unclaimed Dionysios.
+
+
+    IV
+
+    _What of her--
+    mistress of Death?_
+
+    Form of a golden wreath
+    were my hands that girt her head,
+    fingers that strove to meet,
+    and met where the whisps escaped
+    from the fillet, of tenderest gold,
+    small circlet and slim
+    were my fingers then.
+
+    Now they are wrought of iron
+    to wrest from earth
+    secrets; strong to protect,
+    strong to keep back the winter
+    when winter tracks too soon
+    blanch the forest:
+    strong to break dead things,
+    the young tree, drained of sap,
+    the old tree, ready to drop,
+    to lift from the rotting bed
+    of leaves, the old
+    crumbling pine tree stock,
+    to heap bole and knot of fir
+    and pine and resinous oak,
+    till fire shatter the dark
+    and hope of spring
+    rise in the hearts of men.
+
+    _What of her--
+    mistress of Death--
+    what of his kiss?_
+
+    Ah, strong were his arms to wrest
+    slight limbs from the beautiful earth,
+    young hands that plucked the first
+    buds of the chill narcissus,
+    soft fingers that broke
+    and fastened the thorny stalk
+    with the flower of wild acanthus.
+
+    Ah, strong were the arms that took
+    (ah evil, the heart and graceless,)
+    but the kiss was less passionate!
+
+
+
+
+SIMAETHA
+
+
+    Drenched with purple,
+    drenched with dye, my wool,
+    bind you the wheel-spokes--
+    turn, turn, turn my wheel!
+
+    Drenched with purple,
+    steeped in the red pulp
+    of bursting sea-sloes--
+    turn, turn, turn my wheel!
+
+    (Ah did he think
+    I did not know,
+    I did not feel--
+    what wrack, what weal for him:
+    golden one, golden one,
+    turn again Aphrodite with the yellow zone,
+    I am cursed, cursed, undone!
+    Ah and my face, Aphrodite,
+    beside your gold,
+    is cut out of white stone!)
+
+    Laurel blossom and the red seed
+    of the red vervain weed,
+    burn, crackle in the fire,
+    burn, crackle for my need!
+    Laurel leaf, O fruited
+    branch of bay,
+    burn, burn away
+    thought, memory and hurt!
+
+    (Ah when he comes,
+    stumbling across my sill,
+    will he find me still,
+    fragrant as the white privet,
+    or as a bone,
+    polished in wet and sun,
+    worried of wild beaks,
+    and of the whelps' teeth--
+    worried of flesh,
+    left to bleach under the sun,
+    white as ash bled of heat,
+    white as hail blazing in sheet-lightning,
+    white as forked lightning
+    rending the sleet?)
+
+
+
+
+THETIS
+
+
+    I
+
+    On the paved parapet
+    you will step carefully
+    from amber stones to onyx
+    flecked with violet,
+    mingled with light,
+    half showing the sea-grass
+    and sea-sand underneath,
+    reflecting your white feet
+    and the gay strap crimson
+    as lily-buds of Arion,
+    and the gold that binds your feet.
+
+
+    II
+
+    You will pass
+    beneath the island disk
+    (and myrtle-wood,
+    the carved support of it)
+    and the white stretch
+    of its white beach,
+    curved as the moon crescent
+    or ivory when some fine hand
+    chisels it:
+    when the sun slips
+    through the far edge,
+    there is rare amber
+    through the sea,
+    and flecks of it
+    glitter on the dolphin's back
+    and jewelled halter
+    and harness and bit
+    as he sways under it.
+
+
+
+
+CIRCE
+
+
+    It was easy enough
+    to bend them to my wish,
+    it was easy enough
+    to alter them with a touch,
+    but you
+    adrift on the great sea,
+    how shall I call you back?
+
+    Cedar and white ash,
+    rock-cedar and sand plants
+    and tamarisk
+    red cedar and white cedar
+    and black cedar from the inmost forest,
+    fragrance upon fragrance
+    and all of my sea-magic is for nought.
+
+    It was easy enough--
+    a thought called them
+    from the sharp edges of the earth;
+    they prayed for a touch,
+    they cried for the sight of my face,
+    they entreated me
+    till in pity
+    I turned each to his own self.
+
+    Panther and panther,
+    then a black leopard
+    follows close--
+    black panther and red
+    and a great hound,
+    a god-like beast,
+    cut the sand in a clear ring
+    and shut me from the earth,
+    and cover the sea-sound
+    with their throats,
+    and the sea-roar with their own barks
+    and bellowing and snarls,
+    and the sea-stars
+    and the swirl of the sand,
+    and the rock-tamarisk
+    and the wind resonance--
+    but not your voice.
+
+    It is easy enough to call men
+    from the edges of the earth.
+    It is easy enough to summon them to my feet
+    with a thought--
+    it is beautiful to see the tall panther
+    and the sleek deer-hounds
+    circle in the dark.
+
+    It is easy enough
+    to make cedar and white ash fumes
+    into palaces
+    and to cover the sea-caves
+    with ivory and onyx.
+
+    But I would give up
+    rock-fringes of coral
+    and the inmost chamber
+    of my island palace
+    and my own gifts
+    and the whole region
+    of my power and magic
+    for your glance.
+
+
+
+
+LEDA
+
+
+    Where the slow river
+    meets the tide,
+    a red swan lifts red wings
+    and darker beak,
+    and underneath the purple down
+    of his soft breast
+    uncurls his coral feet.
+
+    Through the deep purple
+    of the dying heat
+    of sun and mist,
+    the level ray of sun-beam
+    has caressed
+    the lily with dark breast,
+    and flecked with richer gold
+    its golden crest.
+
+    Where the slow lifting
+    of the tide,
+    floats into the river
+    and slowly drifts
+    among the reeds,
+    and lifts the yellow flags,
+    he floats
+    where tide and river meet.
+
+    Ah kingly kiss--
+    no more regret
+    nor old deep memories
+    to mar the bliss;
+    where the low sedge is thick,
+    the gold day-lily
+    outspreads and rests
+    beneath soft fluttering
+    of red swan wings
+    and the warm quivering
+    of the red swan's breast.
+
+
+
+
+HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES
+
+
+    I worship the greatest first--
+    (it were sweet, the couch,
+    the brighter ripple of cloth
+    over the dipped fleece;
+    the thought: her bones
+    under the flesh are white
+    as sand which along a beach
+    covers but keeps the print
+    of the crescent shapes beneath:
+    I thought:
+    between cloth and fleece,
+    so her body lies.)
+
+    I worship first, the great--
+    (ah, sweet, your eyes--
+    what God, invoked in Crete,
+    gave them the gift to part
+    as the Sidonian myrtle-flower
+    suddenly, wide and swart,
+    then swiftly,
+    the eye-lids having provoked our hearts--
+    as suddenly beat and close.)
+
+    I worship the feet, flawless,
+    that haunt the hills--
+    (ah, sweet, dare I think,
+    beneath fetter of golden clasp,
+    of the rhythm, the fall and rise
+    of yours, carven, slight
+    beneath straps of gold that keep
+    their slender beauty caught,
+    like wings and bodies
+    of trapped birds.)
+
+    I worship the greatest first--
+    (suddenly into my brain--
+    the flash of sun on the snow,
+    the fringe of light and the drift,
+    the crest and the hill-shadow--
+    ah, surely now I forget,
+    ah splendour, my goddess turns:
+    or was it the sudden heat,
+    beneath quivering of molten flesh,
+    of veins, purple as violets?)
+
+
+
+
+CUCKOO SONG
+
+
+    Ah, bird,
+    our love is never spent
+    with your clear note,
+    nor satiate our soul;
+    not song, not wail, not hurt,
+    but just a call summons us
+    with its simple top-note
+    and soft fall;
+
+    not to some rarer heaven
+    of lilies over-tall,
+    nor tuberose set against
+    some sun-lit wall,
+    but to a gracious
+    cedar-palace hall;
+
+    not marble set with purple
+    hung with roses and tall
+    sweet lilies--such
+    as the nightingale
+    would summon for us
+    with her wail--
+    (surely only unhappiness
+    could thrill
+    such a rich madrigal!)
+    not she, the nightingale
+    can fill our souls
+    with such a wistful joy as this:
+
+    nor, bird, so sweet
+    was ever a swallow note--
+    not hers, so perfect
+    with the wing of lazuli
+    and bright breast--
+    nor yet the oriole
+    filling with melody
+    from her fiery throat
+    some island-orchard
+    in a purple sea.
+
+    Ah dear, ah gentle bird,
+    you spread warm length
+    of crimson wool
+    and tinted woven stuff
+    for us to rest upon,
+    nor numb with ecstasy
+    nor drown with death:
+
+    only you soothe, make still
+    the throbbing of our brain:
+    so through her forest trees,
+    when all her hope was gone
+    and all her pain,
+    Calypso heard your call--
+    across the gathering drift
+    of burning cedar-wood,
+    across the low-set bed
+    of wandering parsley and violet,
+    when all her hope was dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLANDS
+
+
+    I
+
+    What are the islands to me,
+    what is Greece,
+    what is Rhodes, Samos, Chios,
+    what is Paros facing west,
+    what is Crete?
+
+    What is Samothrace,
+    rising like a ship,
+    what is Imbros rending the storm-waves
+    with its breast?
+
+    What is Naxos, Paros, Milos,
+    what the circle about Lycia,
+    what, the Cyclades'
+    white necklace?
+
+    What is Greece--
+    Sparta, rising like a rock,
+    Thebes, Athens,
+    what is Corinth?
+
+    What is Euboia
+    with its island violets,
+    what is Euboia, spread with grass,
+    set with swift shoals,
+    what is Crete?
+
+    What are the islands to me,
+    what is Greece?
+
+
+    II
+
+    What can love of land give to me
+    that you have not--
+    what do the tall Spartans know,
+    and gentler Attic folk?
+
+    What has Sparta and her women
+    more than this?
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you are lost--
+    what is Naxos, Tinos, Andros,
+    and Delos, the clasp
+    of the white necklace?
+
+
+    III
+
+    What can love of land give to me
+    that you have not,
+    what can love of strife break in me
+    that you have not?
+
+    Though Sparta enter Athens,
+    Thebes wrack Sparta,
+    each changes as water,
+    salt, rising to wreak terror
+    and fall back.
+
+
+    IV
+
+    "What has love of land given to you
+    that I have not?"
+
+    I have questioned Tyrians
+    where they sat
+    on the black ships,
+    weighted with rich stuffs,
+    I have asked the Greeks
+    from the white ships,
+    and Greeks from ships whose hulks
+    lay on the wet sand, scarlet
+    with great beaks.
+    I have asked bright Tyrians
+    and tall Greeks--
+    "what has love of land given you?"
+    And they answered--"peace."
+
+
+    V
+
+    But beauty is set apart,
+    beauty is cast by the sea,
+    a barren rock,
+    beauty is set about
+    with wrecks of ships,
+    upon our coast, death keeps
+    the shallows--death waits
+    clutching toward us
+    from the deeps.
+
+    Beauty is set apart;
+    the winds that slash its beach,
+    swirl the coarse sand
+    upward toward the rocks.
+
+    Beauty is set apart
+    from the islands
+    and from Greece.
+
+
+    VI
+
+    In my garden
+    the winds have beaten
+    the ripe lilies;
+    in my garden, the salt
+    has wilted the first flakes
+    of young narcissus,
+    and the lesser hyacinth,
+    and the salt has crept
+    under the leaves of the white hyacinth.
+
+    In my garden
+    even the wind-flowers lie flat,
+    broken by the wind at last.
+
+
+    VII
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you are lost,
+    what is Paros to me
+    if your eyes draw back,
+    what is Milos
+    if you take fright of beauty,
+    terrible, torturous, isolated,
+    a barren rock?
+
+    What is Rhodes, Crete,
+    what is Paros facing west,
+    what, white Imbros?
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you hesitate,
+    what is Greece if you draw back
+    from the terror
+    and cold splendour of song
+    and its bleak sacrifice?
+
+
+
+
+AT BAIA
+
+
+    I should have thought
+    in a dream you would have brought
+    some lovely, perilous thing,
+    orchids piled in a great sheath,
+    as who would say (in a dream)
+    I send you this,
+    who left the blue veins
+    of your throat unkissed.
+
+    Why was it that your hands
+    (that never took mine)
+    your hands that I could see
+    drift over the orchid heads
+    so carefully,
+    your hands, so fragile, sure to lift
+    so gently, the fragile flower stuff--
+    ah, ah, how was it
+
+    You never sent (in a dream)
+    the very form, the very scent,
+    not heavy, not sensuous,
+    but perilous--perilous--
+    of orchids, piled in a great sheath,
+    and folded underneath on a bright scroll
+    some word:
+
+    Flower sent to flower;
+    for white hands, the lesser white,
+    less lovely of flower leaf,
+
+    or
+
+    Lover to lover, no kiss,
+    no touch, but forever and ever this.
+
+
+
+
+SEA HEROES
+
+
+    Crash on crash of the sea,
+    straining to wreck men, sea-boards, continents,
+    raging against the world, furious,
+    stay at last, for against your fury
+    and your mad fight,
+    the line of heroes stands, god-like:
+
+    Akroneos, Oknolos, Elatreus,
+    helm-of-boat, loosener-of-helm, dweller-by-sea,
+    Nauteus, sea-man,
+    Prumneos, stern-of-ship,
+    Agchialos, sea-girt,
+    Elatreus, oar-shaft:
+    lover-of-the-sea, lover-of-the-sea-ebb,
+    lover-of-the-swift-sea,
+    Ponteus, Proreus, Ooos:
+    Anabesneos, one caught between
+    wave-shock and wave-shock:
+    Eurualos, broad sea-wrack,
+    like Ares, man's death,
+    and Naubolides, best in shape,
+    of all first in size:
+    Phaekous, seas' thunderbolt--
+    ah, crash on crash of great names--
+    man-tamer, man's-help, perfect Laodamos:
+    and last the sons of great Alkinoos,
+    Laodamos, Halios and god-like Clytomeos.
+
+    Of all nations, of all cities,
+    of all continents,
+    she is favoured among the rest,
+    for she gives men as great as the sea,
+    valorous to the fight,
+    to battle against the elements and evil:
+    greater even than the sea,
+    they live beyond wrack and death of cities,
+    and each god-like name spoken
+    is as a shrine in a godless place.
+
+    But to name you,
+    we reverent are breathless,
+    weak with pain and old loss,
+    and exile and despair--
+    our hearts break but to speak
+    your name, Oknaleos--
+    and may we but call you in the feverish wrack
+    of our storm-strewn beach, Eretmeos,
+    and our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed,
+    as the sea may yet be tamed,
+    and we vow to float great ships,
+    named for each hero,
+    and oar-blades, cut out of mountain-trees
+    as such men might have shaped:
+    Eretmeos and the sea is swept,
+    baffled by the lordly shape,
+    Akroneos has pines for his ship's keel;
+    to love, to mate the sea?
+    Ah there is Ponteos,
+    the very deeps roar,
+    hailing you dear--
+    they clamour to Ponteos,
+    and to Proeos
+    leap, swift to kiss, to curl, to creep,
+    lover to mistress.
+
+    What wave, what love, what foam,
+    for Ooos who moves swift as the sea?
+    Ah stay, my heart, the weight
+    of lovers, of loneliness
+    drowns me,
+    alas that their very names
+    so press to break my heart
+    with heart-sick weariness,
+    what would they be,
+    the very gods,
+    rearing their mighty length
+    beside the unharvested sea?
+
+
+
+
+"NOT HONEY"
+
+
+    Not honey,
+    not the plunder of the bee
+    from meadow or sand-flower
+    or mountain bush;
+    from winter-flower or shoot
+    born of the later heat:
+    not honey, not the sweet
+    stain on the lips and teeth:
+    not honey, not the deep
+    plunge of soft belly
+    and the clinging of the gold-edged
+    pollen-dusted feet.
+
+    Not so--
+    though rapture blind my eyes,
+    and hunger crisp
+    dark and inert my mouth,
+    not honey, not the south,
+    not the tall stalk
+    of red twin-lilies,
+    nor light branch of fruit tree
+    caught in flexible light branch.
+
+    Not honey, not the south;
+    ah flower of purple iris,
+    flower of white,
+    or of the iris, withering the grass--
+    for fleck of the sun's fire,
+    gathers such heat and power,
+    that shadow-print is light,
+    cast through the petals
+    of the yellow iris flower.
+
+    Not iris--old desire--old passion--
+    old forgetfulness--old pain--
+    not this, nor any flower,
+    but if you turn again,
+    seek strength of arm and throat,
+    touch as the god;
+    neglect the lyre-note;
+    knowing that you shall feel,
+    about the frame,
+    no trembling of the string
+    but heat, more passionate
+    of bone and the white shell
+    and fiery tempered steel.
+
+
+
+
+EVADNE
+
+
+    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 mate 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.
+
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+
+    You are as gold
+    as the half-ripe grain
+    that merges to gold again,
+    as white as the white rain
+    that beats through
+    the half-opened flowers
+    of the great flower tufts
+    thick on the black limbs
+    of an Illyrian apple bough.
+
+    Can honey distill such fragrance
+    as your bright hair--
+    for your face is as fair as rain,
+    yet as rain that lies clear
+    on white honey-comb,
+    lends radiance to the white wax,
+    so your hair on your brow
+    casts light for a shadow.
+
+
+
+
+WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT
+
+
+    Why have you sought the Greeks, Eros,
+    when such delight was yours
+    in the far depth of sky:
+    there you could note bright ivory
+    take colour where she bent her face,
+    and watch fair gold shed gold
+    on radiant surface of porch and pillar:
+    and ivory and bright gold,
+    polished and lustrous grow faint
+    beside that wondrous flesh
+    and print of her foot-hold:
+    Love, why do you tempt the Grecian porticoes?
+
+    Here men are bent with thought
+    and women waste fair moments
+    gathering lint and pricking coloured stuffs
+    to mar their breasts,
+    while she, adored,
+    wastes not her fingers,
+    worn of fire and sword,
+    wastes not her touch
+    on linen and fine thread,
+    wastes not her head
+    in thought and pondering,
+    Love, why have you sought the horde
+    of spearsmen, why the tent
+    Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
+
+
+
+
+THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD
+
+
+    The whole white world is ours,
+    and the world, purple with rose-bays,
+    bays, bush on bush,
+    group, thicket, hedge and tree,
+    dark islands in a sea
+    of grey-green olive or wild white-olive,
+    cut with the sudden cypress shafts,
+    in clusters, two or three,
+    or with one slender, single cypress-tree.
+
+    Slid from the hill,
+    as crumbling snow-peaks slide,
+    citron on citron fill
+    the valley, and delight
+    waits till our spirits tire
+    of forest, grove and bush
+    and purple flower of the laurel-tree.
+
+    Yet not one wearies,
+    joined is each to each
+    in happiness complete
+    with bush and flower:
+    ours is the wind-breath
+    at the hot noon-hour,
+    ours is the bee's soft belly
+    and the blush of the rose-petal,
+    lifted, of the flower.
+
+
+
+
+PHAEDRA
+
+
+    Think, O my soul,
+    of the red sand of Crete;
+    think of the earth; the heat
+    burnt fissures like the great
+    backs of the temple serpents;
+    think of the world you knew;
+    as the tide crept, the land
+    burned with a lizard-blue
+    where the dark sea met the sand.
+
+    Think, O my soul--
+    what power has struck you blind--
+    is there no desert-root, no forest-berry
+    pine-pitch or knot of fir
+    known that can help the soul
+    caught in a force, a power,
+    passionless, not its own?
+
+    So I scatter, so implore
+    Gods of Crete, summoned before
+    with slighter craft;
+    ah, hear my prayer:
+
+    Grant to my soul
+    the body that it wore,
+    trained to your thought,
+    that kept and held your power,
+    as the petal of black poppy,
+    the opiate of the flower.
+
+    For art undreamt in Crete,
+    strange art and dire,
+    in counter-charm prevents my charm
+    limits my power:
+    pine-cone I heap,
+    grant answer to my prayer.
+
+    No more, my soul--
+    as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,
+    burns till beside it, noon's bright heat
+    is withered, filled with dust--
+    and into that noon-heat
+    grown drab and stale,
+    suddenly wind and thunder and swift rain,
+    till the scarlet flower is wrecked
+    in the slash of the white hail.
+
+    The poppy that my heart was,
+    formed to blind all mortals,
+    made to strike and gather hearts
+    like flame upon an altar,
+    fades and shrinks, a red leaf
+    drenched and torn in the cold rain.
+
+
+
+
+SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA
+
+
+    Can flame beget white steel--
+    ah no, it could not take
+    within my reins its shelter;
+    steel must seek steel,
+    or hate make out of joy
+    a whet-stone for a sword;
+    sword against flint,
+    Theseus sought Hippolyta;
+    she yielded not nor broke,
+    sword upon stone,
+    from the clash leapt a spark,
+    Hippolytus, born of hate.
+
+    What did she think
+    when all her strength
+    was twisted for his bearing;
+    did it break,
+    even within her sheltered heart, a song,
+    some whispered note,
+    distant and faint as this:
+
+    _Love that I bear
+    within my breast
+    how is my armour melted
+    how my heart:
+    as an oak-tree
+    that keeps beneath the snow,
+    the young bark fresh
+    till the spring cast
+    from off its shoulders
+    the white snow
+    so does my armour melt._
+
+    _Love that I bear
+    within my heart, O speak;
+    tell how beneath the serpent-spotted shell,
+    the cygnets wait,
+    how the soft owl
+    opens and flicks with pride,
+    eye-lids of great bird-eyes,
+    when underneath its breast
+    the owlets shrink and turn._
+
+    You have the power,
+    (then did she say) Artemis,
+    benignity to grant
+    forgiveness that I gave
+    no quarter to an enemy who cast
+    his armour on the forest-moss,
+    and took, unmatched in an uneven contest,
+    Hippolyta who relented not,
+    returned and sought no kiss.
+
+    Then did she pray: Artemis,
+    grant that no flower
+    be grafted alien on a broken stalk,
+    no dark flame-laurel on the stricken crest
+    of a wild mountain-poplar;
+    grant in my thought,
+    I never yield but wait,
+    entreating cold white river,
+    mountain-pool and salt:
+    let all my veins be ice,
+    until they break
+    (strength of white beach,
+    rock of mountain land,
+    forever to you, Artemis, dedicate)
+    from out my reins,
+    those small, cold hands.
+
+
+
+
+SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA
+
+
+    Was she so chaste?
+
+    Swift and a broken rock
+    clatters across the steep shelf
+    of the mountain slope,
+    sudden and swift
+    and breaks as it clatters down
+    into the hollow breach
+    of the dried water-course:
+    far and away
+    (through fire I see it,
+    and smoke of the dead, withered stalks
+    of the wild cistus-brush)
+    Hippolyta, frail and wild,
+    galloping up the slope
+    between great boulder and rock
+    and group and cluster of rock.
+
+    Was she so chaste,
+    (I see it, sharp, this vision,
+    and each fleck on the horse's flanks
+    of foam, and bridle and bit,
+    silver, and the straps,
+    wrought with their perfect art,
+    and the sun,
+    striking athwart the silver-work,
+    and the neck, strained forward, ears alert,
+    and the head of a girl
+    flung back and her throat.)
+
+    Was she so chaste--
+    (Ah, burn my fire, I ask
+    out of the smoke-ringed darkness
+    enclosing the flaming disk
+    of my vision)
+    I ask for a voice to answer:
+    was she chaste?
+
+    Who can say--
+    the broken ridge of the hills
+    was the line of a lover's shoulder,
+    his arm-turn, the path to the hills,
+    the sudden leap and swift thunder
+    of mountain boulders, his laugh.
+
+    She was mad--
+    as no priest, no lover's cult
+    could grant madness;
+    the wine that entered her throat
+    with the touch of the mountain rocks
+    was white, intoxicant:
+    she, the chaste,
+    was betrayed by the glint
+    of light on the hills,
+    the granite splinter of rocks,
+    the touch of the stone
+    where heat melts
+    toward the shadow-side of the rocks.
+
+
+
+
+EGYPT
+
+(TO E. A. POE)
+
+
+    Egypt had cheated us,
+    for Egypt took
+    through guile and craft
+    our treasure and our hope,
+    Egypt had maimed us,
+    offered dream for life,
+    an opiate for a kiss,
+    and death for both.
+
+    White poison flower we loved
+    and the black spike
+    of an ungarnered bush--
+    (a spice--or without taste--
+    we wondered--then we asked
+    others to take and sip
+    and watched their death)
+    Egypt we loved, though hate
+    should have withheld our touch.
+
+    Egypt had given us knowledge,
+    and we took, blindly,
+    through want of heart,
+    what Egypt brought;
+    knowing all poison,
+    what was that or this,
+    more or less perilous,
+    than this or that.
+
+    We pray you, Egypt,
+    by what perverse fate,
+    has poison brought with knowledge,
+    given us this--
+    not days of trance,
+    shadow, fore-doom of death,
+    but passionate grave thought,
+    belief enhanced,
+    ritual returned and magic;
+
+    Even in the uttermost black pit
+    of the forbidden knowledge,
+    wisdom's glance,
+    the grey eyes following
+    in the mid-most desert--
+    great shaft of rose,
+    fire shed across our path,
+    upon the face grown grey, a light,
+    Hellas re-born from death.
+
+
+
+
+HELIOS
+
+
+    _Helios makes all things right:--
+    night brands and chokes
+    as if destruction broke
+    over furze and stone and crop
+    of myrtle-shoot and field-wort,
+    destroyed with flakes of iron,
+    the bracken-stems,
+    where tender roots were sown,
+    blight, chaff and waste
+    of darkness to choke and drown._
+
+    _A curious god to find,
+    yet in the end faithful;
+    bitter, the Kyprian's feet--
+    ah flecks of whited clay,
+    great hero, vaunted lord--
+    ah petal, dust and wind-fall
+    on the ground--queen awaiting queen._
+
+    _Better the weight, they tell,
+    the helmet's beaten shell,
+    Athene's riven steel,
+    caught over the white skull,
+    Athene sets to heal
+    the few who merit it._
+
+    _Yet even then, what help,
+    should he not turn and note
+    the height of forehead and the mark of conquest,
+    draw near and try the helmet;
+    to left--reset the crown
+    Athene weighted down,
+    or break with a light touch
+    mayhap the steel set to protect;
+    to slay or heal._
+
+    _A treacherous god, they say,
+    yet who would wait to test
+    justice or worth or right,
+    when through a fetid night
+    is wafted faint and nearer--
+    then straight as point of steel
+    to one who courts swift death,
+    scent of Hesperidean orange-spray._
+
+
+
+
+PRAYER
+
+
+    White, O white face--
+    from disenchanted days
+    wither alike dark rose
+    and fiery bays:
+    no gift within our hands,
+    nor strength to praise,
+    only defeat and silence;
+    though we lift hands, disenchanted,
+    of small strength, nor raise
+    branch of the laurel
+    or the light of torch,
+    but fold the garment
+    on the riven locks,
+    yet hear, all-merciful, and touch
+    the fore-head, dim, unlit of pride and thought,
+    Mistress--be near!
+    Give back the glamour to our will,
+    the thought; give back the tool,
+    the chisel; once we wrought
+    things not unworthy,
+    sandal and steel-clasp;
+    silver and steel, the coat
+    with white leaf-pattern
+    at the arm and throat:
+    silver and metal, hammered for the ridge
+    of shield and helmet-rim;
+    white silver with the dark hammered in,
+    belt, staff and magic spear-shaft
+    with the gilt spark at the point and hilt.
+
+_Printed in England at the Pelican Press, 2 Carmelite Street, London,
+E.C._
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+  | Transcriber's Notes                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | Page 42: though amended to through ("through fire I see      |
+  | it, ...")                                                    |
+  |                                                              |
+  | Hyphenation has generally been standardized. However, when a |
+  | word appears hyphenated and unhyphenated an equal number of  |
+  | times, both versions have been retained (forehead/           |
+  | fore-head).                                                  |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hymen, by H. D.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+    body  {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+
+    p     {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify;
+           margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .transnote  {margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 90%;
+                 padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;
+                 border: solid 1px silver;}
+    .frontend {text-align: center; font-size: 85%;}
+    .epigraph {margin-top: 3em; text-align: center;
+               font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 3em;}
+    .acknowledgements {margin-left: 25%; text-align: justify;
+               margin-right: 25%;}
+
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} /* all headings centered */
+
+    hr    {width: 33%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;
+           margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+
+    img {border: 0;}
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+    table     {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+    td        {vertical-align: top;}
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+               left: 92%;
+               font-size: 70%;
+               text-align: right;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .right    {text-align: right;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:30%; margin-right:20%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hymen
+
+Author: Hilda Doolittle
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYMEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class='transnote'>
+<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in
+this text. For a complete list, please see <a href="#tnotes">the bottom of
+this document</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>HYMEN</h1>
+
+<h3>By</h3>
+
+<h2>H. D.</h2>
+
+<p class='frontend'>
+NEW YORK<br />
+HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br />
+1921</p>
+
+
+
+<p class='epigraph'>FOR BRYHER AND PERDITA</p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>They said:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>she is high and far and blind</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>in her high pride,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>but now that my head is bowed</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>in sorrow, I find</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>she is most kind.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>We have taken life, they said,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>blithely, not groped in a mist</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>for things that are not&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>are if you will, but bloodless&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>why ask happiness of the dead?</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>and my heart bled.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Ah, could they know</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>how violets throw strange fire,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>red and purple and gold,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>how they glow</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>gold and purple and red</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>where her feet tread.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class='acknowledgements'>Acknowledgements are due to the editors of
+the following periodicals in which certain
+of these poems have appeared: <i>Poetry</i> (Chicago),
+<i>The Dial</i>, <i>Contact</i> and <i>The Bookman</i> (New
+York), <i>The Nation</i>, <i>The Sphere</i>, <i>The Anglo-French
+Review</i> and <i>The Egoist</i> (London).</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="toc">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>hymen</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>demeter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>simaetha</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>thetis</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>circe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>leda</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>hippolytus temporizes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>cuckoo song</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>the islands</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>at baia</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>sea heroes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>"not honey"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>evadne</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>song</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>why have you sought</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>the whole white world</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>phaedra</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>she contrasts with herself hippolyta</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>she rebukes hippolyta</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>egypt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>helios</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='smcap'>prayer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HYMEN</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a
+queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the
+curtain&mdash;a dark purple hung between Ionic columns&mdash;of the porch or
+open hall of a palace. Their hair is bound as the marble hair of the
+temple Hera. Each wears a crown or diadem of gold.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>They sing&mdash;the music is temple music, deep, simple, chanting
+notes:</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the closed garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where our feet pace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back and forth each day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This gladiolus white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This red, this purple spray&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gladiolus tall with dignity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As yours, lady&mdash;we lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before your feet and pray:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of all the blessings&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Youth, joy, ecstasy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May one gift last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(As the tall gladiolus may<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outlast the wind-flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winter-rose or rose),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One gift above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Encompassing all those;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For her, for him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all within these palace walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the cry of Hymen and the torch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the night and music<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Echoing through the porch till day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><i>The music, with its deep chanting notes, dies away. The curtain
+hangs motionless in rich, full folds. Then from this background of
+darkness, dignity and solemn repose, a flute gradually detaches itself,
+becomes clearer and clearer, pipes alone one shrill, simple little melody.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>From the distance, four children's voices blend with the flute, and
+four very little girls pass singly before the curtain, small maids or
+attendants of the sixteen matrons. Their hair is short and curls at the
+back of their heads like the hair of the chryselephantine Hermes. They
+sing:</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where the first crocus buds unfold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We found these petals near the cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swift river-bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beneath the rocks where ivy-frond<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Puts forth new leaves to gleam beyond<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those lately dead:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The very smallest two or three<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of gold (gold pale as ivory)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We gather&egrave;d.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>When the little girls have passed before the curtain, a wood-wind
+weaves a richer note into the flute melody; then the two blend into one
+song. But as the wood-wind grows in mellowness and richness, the
+flute gradually dies away into a secondary theme and the wood-wind
+alone evolves the melody of a new song.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Two by two&mdash;like two sets of medallions with twin profiles distinct,
+one head slightly higher, bent forward a little&mdash;the four figures of four
+slight, rather fragile taller children, are outlined with sharp white
+contour against the curtain.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The hair is smooth against the heads, falling to the shoulders but
+slightly waved against the nape of the neck. They are looking down,
+each at a spray of winter-rose. The tunics fall to the knees in sharp
+marble folds. They sing:</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never more will the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cherish you again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never more will the rain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we find you bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the snow and wind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The snow is melted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you are flown:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like a bird out of our hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a light out of our heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You are gone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>As the wistful notes of the wood-wind gradually die away, there
+comes a sudden, shrill, swift piping.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Free and wild, like the wood-maidens of Artemis, is this last group of
+four&mdash;very straight with heads tossed back. They sing in rich, free,
+swift notes. They move swiftly before the curtain in contrast to the
+slow, important pace of the first two groups. Their hair is loose and
+rayed out like that of the sun-god. They are boyish in shape and
+gesture. They carry hyacinths in baskets, strapped like quivers to their
+backs. They reach to draw the flower sprays from the baskets, as the
+Huntress her arrows.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>As they dart swiftly to and fro before the curtain, they are youth,
+they are spring&mdash;they are the Chelidonia, their song is the swallow-song
+of joy:</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Between the hollows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the little hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spring spills blue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turquoise, sapphire, lapis-lazuli<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a brown cloth outspread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How carefully we lay them now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each hyacinth spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the marble floor&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A pattern your bent eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May trace and follow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the shut bridal door.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lady, our love, our dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our bride most fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They grew among the hollows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the hills;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the sea had spilled its blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the sea had risen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From its bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sinking to the level of the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left hyacinths on the floor.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></div></div>
+
+<p><i>There is a pause. Flute, pipe and wood-wind blend in a full, rich
+movement. There is no definite melody but full, powerful rhythm like
+soft but steady wind above forest trees. Into this, like rain, gradually
+creeps the note of strings.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>As the strings grow stronger and finally dominate the whole, the
+bride-chorus passes before the curtain. There may be any number in
+this chorus. The figures&mdash;tall young women, clothed in long white
+tunics&mdash;follow one another closely, yet are all distinct like a procession
+of a temple frieze.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The bride in the center is not at first distinguishable from her maidens;
+but as they begin their song, the maidens draw apart into two groups,
+leaving the veiled symbolic figure standing alone in the center.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The two groups range themselves to right and left like officiating
+priestesses. The veiled figure stands with her back against the curtain,
+the others being in profile. Her head is swathed in folds of diaphanous
+white, through which the features are visible, like the veiled Tanagra.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>When the song is finished, the group to the bride's left turns about;
+also the bride, so that all face in one direction. In processional form they
+pass out, the figure of the bride again merging, not distinguishable from
+the maidens.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Strophe</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But of her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can say if she is fair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound with fillet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound with myrtle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Underneath her flowing veil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only the soft length<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Beneath her dress)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of saffron shoe is bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a great lily-heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In its white loveliness.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>Antistrophe</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But of her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We can say that she is fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We bleached the fillet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought the myrtle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To us the task was set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of knotting the fine threads of silk:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We fastened the veil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over the white foot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drew on the painted shoe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steeped in Illyrian crocus.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></div></div>
+
+<p><i>Strophe</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But of her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can say if she is fair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For her head is covered over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her mantle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White on white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snow on whiter amaranth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snow on hoar-frost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snow on snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snow on whitest buds of myrrh.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>Antistrophe</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But of her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We can say that she is fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For we know underneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the wanness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(In her blanched face)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is caught in her eyes as fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the dark center leaf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the white Syrian iris.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>The rather hard, hieratic precision of the music&mdash;its stately pause
+and beat&mdash;is broken now into irregular lilt and rhythm of strings.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Four tall young women, very young matrons, enter in a group. They
+stand clear and fair, but this little group entirely lacks the austere precision
+of the procession of maidens just preceding them. They pause in
+the center of the stage; turn, one three-quarter, two in profile and the
+fourth full face; they stand, turned as if confiding in each other like a
+Tanagra group.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>They sing lightly, their flower trays under their arms.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Along the yellow sand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the rocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The laurel-bushes stand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the shimmering heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each separate leaf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is bright and cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the bronze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of shining bark and wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Run the fine threads of gold.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here in our wicker-trays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We bring the first faint blossoming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fragrant bays:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lady, their blushes shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As faint in hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when through petals<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a laurel-rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun shines through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And throws a purple shadow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a marble vase.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(Ah, love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So her fair breasts will shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the faint shadow above.)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>The harp chords become again more regular in simple definite
+rhythm. The music is not so intense as the bride-chorus; and quieter,
+more sedate, than the notes preceding the entrance of the last group.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Five or six slightly older serene young women enter in processional
+form; each holding before her, with precise bending of arms, coverlets
+and linen, carefully folded, as if for the bride couch. The garments are
+purple, scarlet and deep blue, with edge of gold.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>They sing to blending of wood-wind and harp.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From citron-bower be her bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut from branch of tree a-flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fashioned for her maidenhead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From Lydian apples, sweet of hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut the width of board and lathe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carve the feet from myrtle-wood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let the palings of her bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be quince and box-wood overlaid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the scented bark of yew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That all the wood in blossoming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May calm her heart and cool her blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For losing of her maidenhood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>The wood-winds become more rich and resonant. A tall youth crosses
+the stage as if seeking the bride door. The music becomes very rich, full
+of color.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>The figure itself is a flame, an exaggerated symbol; the hair a flame;
+the wings, deep red or purple, stand out against the curtains in a contrasting
+or almost clashing shade of purple. The tunic, again a rich
+purple or crimson, falls almost to the knees. The knees are bare; the
+sandals elaborately strapped over and over. The curtain seems a
+rich purple cloud, the figure, still brighter, like a flamboyant bird, half
+emerged in the sunset.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Love pauses just outside the bride's door with his gift, a tuft of black-purple
+cyclamen. He sings to the accompaniment of wood-winds, in a
+rich, resonant voice:</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The crimson cover of her bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is not so rich, nor so deeply bled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The purple-fish that dyed it red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when in a hot sheltered glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There flowered these stalks of cyclamen:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(Purple with honey-points<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horns for petals;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet and dark and crisp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As fragrant as her maiden kiss.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There with his honey-seeking lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bee clings close and warmly sips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seeks with honey-thighs to sway<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drink the very flower away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(Ah, stern the petals drawing back;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah rare, ah virginal her breath!)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crimson, with honey-seeking lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun lies hot across his back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gold is decked across his wings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quivering he sways and quivering clings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Ah, rare her shoulders drawing back!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One moment, then the plunderer slips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the purple flower-lips.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>Love passes out with a crash of cymbals. There is a momentary pause
+and the music falls into its calm, wave-like rhythm.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A band of boys passes before the curtain. They pass from side to side,
+crossing and re-crossing; but their figures never confuse one another, the
+outlines are never blurred. They stand out against the curtain with
+symbolic gesture, stooping as if to gather up the wreaths, or swaying with
+long stiff branch as if to sweep the fallen petals from the floor.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>There is no marked melody from the instruments, but the boys' voices,
+humming lightly as they enter, gradually evolve a little dance song.
+There are no words but the lilt up and down of the boys' tenor voices.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Then, as if they had finished the task of gathering up the wreaths and
+sweeping the petals, they stand in groups of two before the pillars where
+the torches have been placed. They lift the torches from the brackets.
+They hold them aloft between them, one torch to each two boys. Their
+figures are cut against the curtain like the simple, triangular design on
+the base of a vase or frieze&mdash;the boys' heads on a level, the torches above
+them.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>They sing in clear, half-subdued voices.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where love is king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, there is little need<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dance and sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bridal-torch to flare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amber and scatter light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the purple air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sing and dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To flute-note and to reed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where love is come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Ah, love is come indeed!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our limbs are numb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before his fiery need;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all their glad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rapture of speech unsaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before his fiery lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our lips are mute and dumb.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, sound of reed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, flute and trumpet wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, joy decreed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fringes of her veil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are seared and white;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the flare of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blinded the torches fail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Ah, love is come indeed!)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>At the end of the song, the torches flicker out and the figures are no
+longer distinguishable in the darkness. They pass out like shadows. The
+purple curtain hangs black and heavy.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The music dies away and is finally cut short with a few deep, muted
+chords.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DEMETER</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Men, fires, feasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">steps of temple, fore-stone, lintel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">step of white altar, fire and after-fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">slaughter before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fragment of burnt meat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">deep mystery, grapple of mind to reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the tense thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">power and wealth, purpose and prayer alike,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(men, fires, feasts, temple steps)&mdash;useless.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Useless to me who plant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wide feet on a mighty plinth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">useless to me who sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wide of shoulder, great of thigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">heavy in gold, to press<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">gold back against solid back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the marble seat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">useless the dragons wrought on the arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">useless the poppy-buds and the gold inset<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the spray of wheat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah they have wrought me heavy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and great of limb&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she is slender of waist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">slight of breast, made of many fashions;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they have set <i>her</i> small feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on many a plinth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she they have known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she they have spoken with,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she they have smiled upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she they have caught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and flattered with praise and gifts.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But useless the flattery<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the mighty power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they have granted me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for I will not stay in her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the great of limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">though perfect the shell they have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fashioned me, these men!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do I sit in the market place&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">do I smile, does a noble brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">bend like the brow of Zeus&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">am I a spouse, his or any,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">am I a woman, or goddess or queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to be met by a god with a smile&mdash;and left?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do you ask for a scroll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">parchment, oracle, prophecy, precedent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">do you ask for tablets marked with thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or words cut deep on the marble surface,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">do you seek measured utterance or the mystic trance?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sleep on the stones of Delphi&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">dare the ledges of Pallas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but keep me foremost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">keep me before you, after you, with you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">never forget when you start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for the Delphic precipice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">never forget when you seek Pallas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and meet in thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">yourself drawn out from yourself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">like the holy serpent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">never forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in thought or mysterious trance&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am greatest and least.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Soft are the hands of Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">soft, soft are his feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">you who have twined myrtle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">have you brought crocuses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white as the inner<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">stript bark of the osier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">have you set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">black crocus against the black<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">locks of another?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of whom do I speak?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Many the children of gods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but first I take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bromios, fostering prince,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lift from the ivy brake, a king.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Enough of the lightning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">enough of the tales that speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the death of the mother:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">strange tales of a shelter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">brought to the unborn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">enough of tale, myth, mystery, precedent&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a child lay on the earth asleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Soft are the hands of Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but what soft hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">clutched at the thorny ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">scratched like a small white ferret<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or foraging whippet or hound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sought nourishment and found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">only the crackling of ivy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">dead ivy leaf and the white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">berry, food for a bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no food for this who sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">bending small head in a fever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">whining with little breath.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, small black head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, the purple ivy bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, berries that shook and spilt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on the form beneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">who begot you and left?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though I begot no man child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">all my days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the child of my heart and spirit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">is the child the gods desert<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">alike and the mother in death&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the unclaimed Dionysios.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>What of her&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>mistress of Death?</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Form of a golden wreath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">were my hands that girt her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fingers that strove to meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and met where the whisps escaped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the fillet, of tenderest gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">small circlet and slim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">were my fingers then.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now they are wrought of iron<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to wrest from earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">secrets; strong to protect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">strong to keep back the winter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when winter tracks too soon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">blanch the forest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">strong to break dead things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the young tree, drained of sap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the old tree, ready to drop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to lift from the rotting bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of leaves, the old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">crumbling pine tree stock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to heap bole and knot of fir<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and pine and resinous oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">till fire shatter the dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and hope of spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rise in the hearts of men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>What of her&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>mistress of Death&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>what of his kiss?</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, strong were his arms to wrest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">slight limbs from the beautiful earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">young hands that plucked the first<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">buds of the chill narcissus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">soft fingers that broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and fastened the thorny stalk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with the flower of wild acanthus.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, strong were the arms that took<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(ah evil, the heart and graceless,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but the kiss was less passionate!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SIMAETHA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Drenched with purple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">drenched with dye, my wool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">bind you the wheel-spokes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">turn, turn, turn my wheel!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Drenched with purple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">steeped in the red pulp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of bursting sea-sloes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">turn, turn, turn my wheel!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(Ah did he think<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I did not know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I did not feel&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what wrack, what weal for him:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">golden one, golden one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">turn again Aphrodite with the yellow zone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am cursed, cursed, undone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah and my face, Aphrodite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beside your gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">is cut out of white stone!)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Laurel blossom and the red seed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the red vervain weed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burn, crackle in the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burn, crackle for my need!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laurel leaf, O fruited<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">branch of bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burn, burn away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">thought, memory and hurt!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(Ah when he comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">stumbling across my sill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">will he find me still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fragrant as the white privet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or as a bone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">polished in wet and sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">worried of wild beaks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and of the whelps' teeth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">worried of flesh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">left to bleach under the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white as ash bled of heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white as hail blazing in sheet-lightning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white as forked lightning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rending the sleet?)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THETIS</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On the paved parapet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">you will step carefully<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from amber stones to onyx<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">flecked with violet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">mingled with light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">half showing the sea-grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and sea-sand underneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">reflecting your white feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the gay strap crimson<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as lily-buds of Arion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the gold that binds your feet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You will pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beneath the island disk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(and myrtle-wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the carved support of it)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the white stretch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of its white beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">curved as the moon crescent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or ivory when some fine hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">chisels it:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when the sun slips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">through the far edge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">there is rare amber<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">through the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and flecks of it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">glitter on the dolphin's back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and jewelled halter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and harness and bit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as he sways under it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CIRCE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was easy enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to bend them to my wish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">it was easy enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to alter them with a touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">adrift on the great sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">how shall I call you back?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cedar and white ash,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rock-cedar and sand plants<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and tamarisk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">red cedar and white cedar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and black cedar from the inmost forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fragrance upon fragrance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and all of my sea-magic is for nought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was easy enough&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a thought called them<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the sharp edges of the earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they prayed for a touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they cried for the sight of my face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they entreated me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">till in pity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I turned each to his own self.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Panther and panther,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">then a black leopard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">follows close&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">black panther and red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and a great hound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a god-like beast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">cut the sand in a clear ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and shut me from the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and cover the sea-sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with their throats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the sea-roar with their own barks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and bellowing and snarls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the sea-stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the swirl of the sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the rock-tamarisk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the wind resonance&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but not your voice.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is easy enough to call men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the edges of the earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is easy enough to summon them to my feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with a thought&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">it is beautiful to see the tall panther<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the sleek deer-hounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">circle in the dark.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is easy enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to make cedar and white ash fumes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">into palaces<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and to cover the sea-caves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with ivory and onyx.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But I would give up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rock-fringes of coral<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the inmost chamber<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of my island palace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and my own gifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the whole region<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of my power and magic<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for your glance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LEDA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where the slow river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">meets the tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a red swan lifts red wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and darker beak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and underneath the purple down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of his soft breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">uncurls his coral feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through the deep purple<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the dying heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of sun and mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the level ray of sun-beam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">has caressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the lily with dark breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and flecked with richer gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">its golden crest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where the slow lifting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">floats into the river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and slowly drifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">among the reeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and lifts the yellow flags,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">he floats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">where tide and river meet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah kingly kiss&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no more regret<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor old deep memories<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to mar the bliss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">where the low sedge is thick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the gold day-lily<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">outspreads and rests<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beneath soft fluttering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of red swan wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the warm quivering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the red swan's breast.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I worship the greatest first&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(it were sweet, the couch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the brighter ripple of cloth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">over the dipped fleece;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the thought: her bones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">under the flesh are white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as sand which along a beach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">covers but keeps the print<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the crescent shapes beneath:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I thought:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">between cloth and fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so her body lies.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I worship first, the great&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(ah, sweet, your eyes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what God, invoked in Crete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">gave them the gift to part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the Sidonian myrtle-flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">suddenly, wide and swart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">then swiftly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the eye-lids having provoked our hearts&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as suddenly beat and close.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I worship the feet, flawless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that haunt the hills&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(ah, sweet, dare I think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beneath fetter of golden clasp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the rhythm, the fall and rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of yours, carven, slight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beneath straps of gold that keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">their slender beauty caught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">like wings and bodies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of trapped birds.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I worship the greatest first&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(suddenly into my brain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the flash of sun on the snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the fringe of light and the drift,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the crest and the hill-shadow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, surely now I forget,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah splendour, my goddess turns:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or was it the sudden heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beneath quivering of molten flesh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of veins, purple as violets?)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CUCKOO SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">our love is never spent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with your clear note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor satiate our soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not song, not wail, not hurt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but just a call summons us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with its simple top-note<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and soft fall;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">not to some rarer heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of lilies over-tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor tuberose set against<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">some sun-lit wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but to a gracious<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">cedar-palace hall;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">not marble set with purple<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">hung with roses and tall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sweet lilies&mdash;such<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the nightingale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">would summon for us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with her wail&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(surely only unhappiness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">could thrill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">such a rich madrigal!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not she, the nightingale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">can fill our souls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with such a wistful joy as this:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">nor, bird, so sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was ever a swallow note&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not hers, so perfect<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with the wing of lazuli<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and bright breast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor yet the oriole<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">filling with melody<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from her fiery throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">some island-orchard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in a purple sea.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah dear, ah gentle bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">you spread warm length<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of crimson wool<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and tinted woven stuff<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for us to rest upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor numb with ecstasy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor drown with death:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">only you soothe, make still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the throbbing of our brain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so through her forest trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when all her hope was gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and all her pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calypso heard your call&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">across the gathering drift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of burning cedar-wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">across the low-set bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of wandering parsley and violet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when all her hope was dead.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE ISLANDS</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are the islands to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Greece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Rhodes, Samos, Chios,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Paros facing west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Crete?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is Samothrace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rising like a ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Imbros rending the storm-waves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with its breast?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is Naxos, Paros, Milos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what the circle about Lycia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what, the Cyclades'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white necklace?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is Greece&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparta, rising like a rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thebes, Athens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Corinth?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is Euboia<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with its island violets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Euboia, spread with grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">set with swift shoals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Crete?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are the islands to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Greece?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What can love of land give to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that you have not&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what do the tall Spartans know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and gentler Attic folk?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What has Sparta and her women<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">more than this?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">if you are lost&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Naxos, Tinos, Andros,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and Delos, the clasp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the white necklace?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What can love of land give to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that you have not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what can love of strife break in me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that you have not?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though Sparta enter Athens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thebes wrack Sparta,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">each changes as water,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">salt, rising to wreak terror<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and fall back.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What has love of land given to you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that I have not?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have questioned Tyrians<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">where they sat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on the black ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">weighted with rich stuffs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have asked the Greeks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the white ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and Greeks from ships whose hulks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lay on the wet sand, scarlet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with great beaks.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have asked bright Tyrians<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and tall Greeks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"what has love of land given you?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they answered&mdash;"peace."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But beauty is set apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beauty is cast by the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a barren rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beauty is set about<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with wrecks of ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">upon our coast, death keeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the shallows&mdash;death waits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">clutching toward us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the deeps.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beauty is set apart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the winds that slash its beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">swirl the coarse sand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">upward toward the rocks.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beauty is set apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the islands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and from Greece.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In my garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the winds have beaten<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the ripe lilies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in my garden, the salt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">has wilted the first flakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of young narcissus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the lesser hyacinth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the salt has crept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">under the leaves of the white hyacinth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In my garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">even the wind-flowers lie flat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">broken by the wind at last.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">if you are lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Paros to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">if your eyes draw back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Milos<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">if you take fright of beauty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">terrible, torturous, isolated,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a barren rock?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is Rhodes, Crete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Paros facing west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what, white Imbros?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are the islands to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">if you hesitate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what is Greece if you draw back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the terror<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and cold splendour of song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and its bleak sacrifice?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+<h2>AT BAIA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I should have thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in a dream you would have brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">some lovely, perilous thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">orchids piled in a great sheath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as who would say (in a dream)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I send you this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">who left the blue veins<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of your throat unkissed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why was it that your hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(that never took mine)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">your hands that I could see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">drift over the orchid heads<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so carefully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">your hands, so fragile, sure to lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so gently, the fragile flower stuff&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, ah, how was it<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You never sent (in a dream)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the very form, the very scent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not heavy, not sensuous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but perilous&mdash;perilous&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of orchids, piled in a great sheath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and folded underneath on a bright scroll<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">some word:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flower sent to flower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for white hands, the lesser white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">less lovely of flower leaf,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">or<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lover to lover, no kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no touch, but forever and ever this.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SEA HEROES</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crash on crash of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">straining to wreck men, sea-boards, continents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">raging against the world, furious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">stay at last, for against your fury<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and your mad fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the line of heroes stands, god-like:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Akroneos, Oknolos, Elatreus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">helm-of-boat, loosener-of-helm, dweller-by-sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nauteus, sea-man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prumneos, stern-of-ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Agchialos, sea-girt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elatreus, oar-shaft:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lover-of-the-sea, lover-of-the-sea-ebb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lover-of-the-swift-sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ponteus, Proreus, Ooos:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anabesneos, one caught between<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wave-shock and wave-shock:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eurualos, broad sea-wrack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">like Ares, man's death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and Naubolides, best in shape,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of all first in size:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Phaekous, seas' thunderbolt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, crash on crash of great names&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">man-tamer, man's-help, perfect Laodamos:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and last the sons of great Alkinoos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laodamos, Halios and god-like Clytomeos.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of all nations, of all cities,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of all continents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she is favoured among the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for she gives men as great as the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">valorous to the fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to battle against the elements and evil:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">greater even than the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they live beyond wrack and death of cities,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and each god-like name spoken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">is as a shrine in a godless place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But to name you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">we reverent are breathless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">weak with pain and old loss,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">and exile and despair&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">our hearts break but to speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">your name, Oknaleos&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and may we but call you in the feverish wrack<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of our storm-strewn beach, Eretmeos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the sea may yet be tamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and we vow to float great ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">named for each hero,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and oar-blades, cut out of mountain-trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as such men might have shaped:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eretmeos and the sea is swept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">baffled by the lordly shape,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Akroneos has pines for his ship's keel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to love, to mate the sea?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah there is Ponteos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the very deeps roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">hailing you dear&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they clamour to Ponteos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and to Proeos<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">leap, swift to kiss, to curl, to creep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lover to mistress.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What wave, what love, what foam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for Ooos who moves swift as the sea?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah stay, my heart, the weight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of lovers, of loneliness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">drowns me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">alas that their very names<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so press to break my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with heart-sick weariness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what would they be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the very gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rearing their mighty length<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beside the unharvested sea?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+<h2>"NOT HONEY"</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not honey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not the plunder of the bee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from meadow or sand-flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or mountain bush;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from winter-flower or shoot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">born of the later heat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not honey, not the sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">stain on the lips and teeth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not honey, not the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">plunge of soft belly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the clinging of the gold-edged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">pollen-dusted feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not so&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">though rapture blind my eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and hunger crisp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">dark and inert my mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not honey, not the south,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not the tall stalk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of red twin-lilies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor light branch of fruit tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">caught in flexible light branch.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not honey, not the south;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah flower of purple iris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">flower of white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or of the iris, withering the grass&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for fleck of the sun's fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">gathers such heat and power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that shadow-print is light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">cast through the petals<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the yellow iris flower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not iris&mdash;old desire&mdash;old passion&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">old forgetfulness&mdash;old pain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not this, nor any flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but if you turn again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">seek strength of arm and throat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">touch as the god;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">neglect the lyre-note;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">knowing that you shall feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">about the frame,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">no trembling of the string<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but heat, more passionate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of bone and the white shell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and fiery tempered steel.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EVADNE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I first tasted under Apollo's lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">love and love sweetness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I Evadne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">my hair is made of crisp violets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or hyacinth which the wind combs back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">across some rock shelf;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I Evadne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was mate of the god of light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His hair was crisp to my mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the flower of the crocus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">across my cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">cool as the silver cress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on Erotos bank;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">between my chin and throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">his mouth slipped over and over.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still between my arm and shoulder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel the brush of his hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and my hands keep the gold they took<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as they wandered over and over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that great arm-full of yellow flowers.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You are as gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the half-ripe grain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that merges to gold again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as white as the white rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that beats through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the half-opened flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the great flower tufts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">thick on the black limbs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of an Illyrian apple bough.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can honey distill such fragrance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as your bright hair&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for your face is as fair as rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">yet as rain that lies clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on white honey-comb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lends radiance to the white wax,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">so your hair on your brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">casts light for a shadow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+<h2>WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why have you sought the Greeks, Eros,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when such delight was yours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in the far depth of sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">there you could note bright ivory<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">take colour where she bent her face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and watch fair gold shed gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on radiant surface of porch and pillar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and ivory and bright gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">polished and lustrous grow faint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">beside that wondrous flesh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and print of her foot-hold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love, why do you tempt the Grecian porticoes?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here men are bent with thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and women waste fair moments<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">gathering lint and pricking coloured stuffs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">to mar their breasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">while she, adored,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wastes not her fingers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">worn of fire and sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wastes not her touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on linen and fine thread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wastes not her head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in thought and pondering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love, why have you sought the horde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of spearsmen, why the tent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The whole white world is ours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the world, purple with rose-bays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">bays, bush on bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">group, thicket, hedge and tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">dark islands in a sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of grey-green olive or wild white-olive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">cut with the sudden cypress shafts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in clusters, two or three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or with one slender, single cypress-tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slid from the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as crumbling snow-peaks slide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">citron on citron fill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the valley, and delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">waits till our spirits tire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of forest, grove and bush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and purple flower of the laurel-tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet not one wearies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">joined is each to each<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in happiness complete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with bush and flower:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ours is the wind-breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">at the hot noon-hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ours is the bee's soft belly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the blush of the rose-petal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">lifted, of the flower.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PHAEDRA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Think, O my soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the red sand of Crete;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">think of the earth; the heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burnt fissures like the great<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">backs of the temple serpents;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">think of the world you knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the tide crept, the land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burned with a lizard-blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">where the dark sea met the sand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Think, O my soul&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what power has struck you blind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">is there no desert-root, no forest-berry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">pine-pitch or knot of fir<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">known that can help the soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">caught in a force, a power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">passionless, not its own?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So I scatter, so implore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gods of Crete, summoned before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with slighter craft;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah, hear my prayer:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Grant to my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the body that it wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">trained to your thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">that kept and held your power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the petal of black poppy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the opiate of the flower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For art undreamt in Crete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">strange art and dire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in counter-charm prevents my charm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">limits my power:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">pine-cone I heap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">grant answer to my prayer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No more, my soul&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burns till beside it, noon's bright heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">is withered, filled with dust&mdash;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">and into that noon-heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">grown drab and stale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">suddenly wind and thunder and swift rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">till the scarlet flower is wrecked<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in the slash of the white hail.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The poppy that my heart was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">formed to blind all mortals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">made to strike and gather hearts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">like flame upon an altar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fades and shrinks, a red leaf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">drenched and torn in the cold rain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can flame beget white steel&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ah no, it could not take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">within my reins its shelter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">steel must seek steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or hate make out of joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">a whet-stone for a sword;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sword against flint,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theseus sought Hippolyta;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she yielded not nor broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sword upon stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from the clash leapt a spark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hippolytus, born of hate.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What did she think<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">when all her strength<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was twisted for his bearing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">did it break,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">even within her sheltered heart, a song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">some whispered note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">distant and faint as this:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Love that I bear</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>within my breast</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>how is my armour melted</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>how my heart:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>as an oak-tree</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>that keeps beneath the snow,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the young bark fresh</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>till the spring cast</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>from off its shoulders</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the white snow</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>so does my armour melt.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Love that I bear</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>within my heart, O speak;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>tell how beneath the serpent-spotted shell,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the cygnets wait,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>how the soft owl</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>opens and flicks with pride,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>eye-lids of great bird-eyes,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>when underneath its breast</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the owlets shrink and turn.</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You have the power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(then did she say) Artemis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">benignity to grant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">forgiveness that I gave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no quarter to an enemy who cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">his armour on the forest-moss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and took, unmatched in an uneven contest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hippolyta who relented not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">returned and sought no kiss.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then did she pray: Artemis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">grant that no flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">be grafted alien on a broken stalk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no dark flame-laurel on the stricken crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of a wild mountain-poplar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">grant in my thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never yield but wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">entreating cold white river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">mountain-pool and salt:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">let all my veins be ice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">until they break<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(strength of white beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">rock of mountain land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">forever to you, Artemis, dedicate)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from out my reins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">those small, cold hands.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Was she so chaste?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Swift and a broken rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">clatters across the steep shelf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the mountain slope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sudden and swift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and breaks as it clatters down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">into the hollow breach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the dried water-course:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">far and away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(through fire I see it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and smoke of the dead, withered stalks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the wild cistus-brush)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hippolyta, frail and wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">galloping up the slope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">between great boulder and rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and group and cluster of rock.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Was she so chaste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(I see it, sharp, this vision,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and each fleck on the horse's flanks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of foam, and bridle and bit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">silver, and the straps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wrought with their perfect art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">striking athwart the silver-work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the neck, strained forward, ears alert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the head of a girl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">flung back and her throat.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Was she so chaste&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Ah, burn my fire, I ask<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">out of the smoke-ringed darkness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">enclosing the flaming disk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of my vision)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ask for a voice to answer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was she chaste?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who can say&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the broken ridge of the hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was the line of a lover's shoulder,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">his arm-turn, the path to the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the sudden leap and swift thunder<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of mountain boulders, his laugh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She was mad&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">as no priest, no lover's cult<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">could grant madness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the wine that entered her throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with the touch of the mountain rocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was white, intoxicant:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">she, the chaste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">was betrayed by the glint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of light on the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the granite splinter of rocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the touch of the stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">where heat melts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">toward the shadow-side of the rocks.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+<h2>EGYPT</h2>
+
+<h3>(<span class="smcap">To E. A. Poe</span>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Egypt had cheated us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">for Egypt took<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">through guile and craft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">our treasure and our hope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Egypt had maimed us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">offered dream for life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">an opiate for a kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and death for both.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">White poison flower we loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and the black spike<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of an ungarnered bush&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(a spice&mdash;or without taste&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">we wondered&mdash;then we asked<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">others to take and sip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and watched their death)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Egypt we loved, though hate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">should have withheld our touch.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Egypt had given us knowledge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and we took, blindly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">through want of heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what Egypt brought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">knowing all poison,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">what was that or this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">more or less perilous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">than this or that.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We pray you, Egypt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">by what perverse fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">has poison brought with knowledge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">given us this&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">not days of trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">shadow, fore-doom of death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but passionate grave thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">belief enhanced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">ritual returned and magic;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even in the uttermost black pit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of the forbidden knowledge,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">wisdom's glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the grey eyes following<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">in the mid-most desert&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">great shaft of rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">fire shed across our path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">upon the face grown grey, a light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hellas re-born from death.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>HELIOS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Helios makes all things right:&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>night brands and chokes</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>as if destruction broke</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>over furze and stone and crop</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>of myrtle-shoot and field-wort,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>destroyed with flakes of iron,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the bracken-stems,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>where tender roots were sown,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>blight, chaff and waste</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>of darkness to choke and drown.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>A curious god to find,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>yet in the end faithful;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>bitter, the Kyprian's feet&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>ah flecks of whited clay,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>great hero, vaunted lord&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>ah petal, dust and wind-fall</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>on the ground&mdash;queen awaiting queen.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Better the weight, they tell,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the helmet's beaten shell,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Athene's riven steel,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>caught over the white skull,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Athene sets to heal</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the few who merit it.</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Yet even then, what help,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>should he not turn and note</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>the height of forehead and the mark of conquest,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>draw near and try the helmet;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>to left&mdash;reset the crown</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Athene weighted down,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>or break with a light touch</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>mayhap the steel set to protect;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>to slay or heal.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>A treacherous god, they say,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>yet who would wait to test</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>justice or worth or right,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>when through a fetid night</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>is wafted faint and nearer&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>then straight as point of steel</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>to one who courts swift death,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>scent of Hesperidean orange-spray.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PRAYER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">White, O white face&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">from disenchanted days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">wither alike dark rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">and fiery bays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">no gift within our hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">nor strength to praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">only defeat and silence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">though we lift hands, disenchanted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of small strength, nor raise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">branch of the laurel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">or the light of torch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">but fold the garment<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">on the riven locks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">yet hear, all-merciful, and touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the fore-head, dim, unlit of pride and thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mistress&mdash;be near!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give back the glamour to our will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the thought; give back the tool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the chisel; once we wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">things not unworthy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">sandal and steel-clasp;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">silver and steel, the coat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with white leaf-pattern<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">at the arm and throat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">silver and metal, hammered for the ridge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">of shield and helmet-rim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">white silver with the dark hammered in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">belt, staff and magic spear-shaft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">with the gilt spark at the point and hilt.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class='center'><i>Printed in England at the Pelican Press, 2 Carmelite Street, London, E.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class='transnote'>
+<a name="tnotes" id="tnotes"></a><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_42">42</a>: though amended to through ("through fire I see it, ...")</p>
+
+<p>Hyphenation has generally been standardized. However, when a
+word appears hyphenated and unhyphenated an equal number of
+times, both versions have been retained (forehead/fore-head).</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hymen
+
+Author: Hilda Doolittle
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYMEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  +------------------------------------------------------------+
+  | Transcriber's Note                                         |
+  |                                                            |
+  | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in        |
+  | this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of   |
+  | this document.                                             |
+  +------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+HYMEN
+
+By
+
+H. D.
+
+NEW YORK
+HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+1921
+
+
+
+
+FOR BRYHER AND PERDITA
+
+
+
+
+    _They said:
+    she is high and far and blind
+    in her high pride,
+    but now that my head is bowed
+    in sorrow, I find
+    she is most kind._
+
+    _We have taken life, they said,
+    blithely, not groped in a mist
+    for things that are not--
+    are if you will, but bloodless--
+    why ask happiness of the dead?
+    and my heart bled._
+
+    _Ah, could they know
+    how violets throw strange fire,
+    red and purple and gold,
+    how they glow
+    gold and purple and red
+    where her feet tread._
+
+
+
+
+Acknowledgements are due to the editors of the following periodicals in
+which certain of these poems have appeared: _Poetry_ (Chicago), _The
+Dial_, _Contact_ and _The Bookman_ (New York), _The Nation_, _The
+Sphere_, _The Anglo-French Review_ and _The Egoist_ (London).
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+HYMEN                                        7
+
+DEMETER                                     15
+
+SIMAETHA                                    19
+
+THETIS                                      20
+
+CIRCE                                       21
+
+LEDA                                        23
+
+HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES                       24
+
+CUCKOO SONG                                 25
+
+THE ISLANDS                                 27
+
+AT BAIA                                     30
+
+SEA HEROES                                  31
+
+"NOT HONEY"                                 33
+
+EVADNE                                      34
+
+SONG                                        35
+
+WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT                         36
+
+THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD                       37
+
+PHAEDRA                                     38
+
+SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA        40
+
+SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA                       42
+
+EGYPT                                       44
+
+HELIOS                                      45
+
+PRAYER                                      47
+
+
+
+
+HYMEN
+
+
+_As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a
+queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the
+curtain--a dark purple hung between Ionic columns--of the porch or open
+hall of a palace. Their hair is bound as the marble hair of the temple
+Hera. Each wears a crown or diadem of gold._
+
+_They sing--the music is temple music, deep, simple, chanting notes:_
+
+    From the closed garden
+    Where our feet pace
+    Back and forth each day,
+    This gladiolus white,
+    This red, this purple spray--
+    Gladiolus tall with dignity
+    As yours, lady--we lay
+    Before your feet and pray:
+
+    Of all the blessings--
+    Youth, joy, ecstasy--
+    May one gift last
+    (As the tall gladiolus may
+    Outlast the wind-flower,
+    Winter-rose or rose),
+    One gift above,
+    Encompassing all those;
+
+    For her, for him,
+    For all within these palace walls,
+    Beyond the feast,
+    Beyond the cry of Hymen and the torch,
+    Beyond the night and music
+    Echoing through the porch till day.
+
+_The music, with its deep chanting notes, dies away. The curtain hangs
+motionless in rich, full folds. Then from this background of darkness,
+dignity and solemn repose, a flute gradually detaches itself, becomes
+clearer and clearer, pipes alone one shrill, simple little melody._
+
+_From the distance, four children's voices blend with the flute, and
+four very little girls pass singly before the curtain, small maids or
+attendants of the sixteen matrons. Their hair is short and curls at the
+back of their heads like the hair of the chryselephantine Hermes. They
+sing:_
+
+    Where the first crocus buds unfold
+    We found these petals near the cold
+      Swift river-bed.
+
+    Beneath the rocks where ivy-frond
+    Puts forth new leaves to gleam beyond
+      Those lately dead:
+
+    The very smallest two or three
+    Of gold (gold pale as ivory)
+      We gathered.
+
+_When the little girls have passed before the curtain, a wood-wind
+weaves a richer note into the flute melody; then the two blend into one
+song. But as the wood-wind grows in mellowness and richness, the flute
+gradually dies away into a secondary theme and the wood-wind alone
+evolves the melody of a new song._
+
+_Two by two--like two sets of medallions with twin profiles distinct,
+one head slightly higher, bent forward a little--the four figures of
+four slight, rather fragile taller children, are outlined with sharp
+white contour against the curtain._
+
+_The hair is smooth against the heads, falling to the shoulders but
+slightly waved against the nape of the neck. They are looking down, each
+at a spray of winter-rose. The tunics fall to the knees in sharp marble
+folds. They sing:_
+
+    Never more will the wind
+    Cherish you again,
+    Never more will the rain.
+
+    Never more
+    Shall we find you bright
+    In the snow and wind.
+
+    The snow is melted,
+    The snow is gone,
+    And you are flown:
+
+    Like a bird out of our hand,
+    Like a light out of our heart,
+    You are gone.
+
+_As the wistful notes of the wood-wind gradually die away, there comes a
+sudden, shrill, swift piping._
+
+_Free and wild, like the wood-maidens of Artemis, is this last group of
+four--very straight with heads tossed back. They sing in rich, free,
+swift notes. They move swiftly before the curtain in contrast to the
+slow, important pace of the first two groups. Their hair is loose and
+rayed out like that of the sun-god. They are boyish in shape and
+gesture. They carry hyacinths in baskets, strapped like quivers to their
+backs. They reach to draw the flower sprays from the baskets, as the
+Huntress her arrows._
+
+_As they dart swiftly to and fro before the curtain, they are youth,
+they are spring--they are the Chelidonia, their song is the swallow-song
+of joy:_
+
+    Between the hollows
+    Of the little hills
+    The spring spills blue--
+    Turquoise, sapphire, lapis-lazuli
+    On a brown cloth outspread.
+
+    Ah see,
+    How carefully we lay them now,
+    Each hyacinth spray,
+    Across the marble floor--
+    A pattern your bent eyes
+    May trace and follow
+    To the shut bridal door.
+
+    Lady, our love, our dear,
+    Our bride most fair,
+    They grew among the hollows
+    Of the hills;
+    As if the sea had spilled its blue,
+    As if the sea had risen
+    From its bed,
+    And sinking to the level of the shore,
+    Left hyacinths on the floor.
+
+_There is a pause. Flute, pipe and wood-wind blend in a full, rich
+movement. There is no definite melody but full, powerful rhythm like
+soft but steady wind above forest trees. Into this, like rain, gradually
+creeps the note of strings._
+
+_As the strings grow stronger and finally dominate the whole, the
+bride-chorus passes before the curtain. There may be any number in this
+chorus. The figures--tall young women, clothed in long white
+tunics--follow one another closely, yet are all distinct like a
+procession of a temple frieze._
+
+_The bride in the center is not at first distinguishable from her
+maidens; but as they begin their song, the maidens draw apart into two
+groups, leaving the veiled symbolic figure standing alone in the
+center._
+
+_The two groups range themselves to right and left like officiating
+priestesses. The veiled figure stands with her back against the curtain,
+the others being in profile. Her head is swathed in folds of diaphanous
+white, through which the features are visible, like the veiled Tanagra._
+
+_When the song is finished, the group to the bride's left turns about;
+also the bride, so that all face in one direction. In processional form
+they pass out, the figure of the bride again merging, not
+distinguishable from the maidens._
+
+_Strophe_
+
+    But of her
+    Who can say if she is fair?
+    Bound with fillet,
+    Bound with myrtle
+    Underneath her flowing veil,
+    Only the soft length
+    (Beneath her dress)
+    Of saffron shoe is bright
+    As a great lily-heart
+    In its white loveliness.
+
+_Antistrophe_
+
+    But of her
+    We can say that she is fair.
+    We bleached the fillet,
+    Brought the myrtle;
+    To us the task was set
+    Of knotting the fine threads of silk:
+    We fastened the veil,
+    And over the white foot
+    Drew on the painted shoe
+    Steeped in Illyrian crocus.
+
+_Strophe_
+
+    But of her,
+    Who can say if she is fair?
+    For her head is covered over
+    With her mantle
+    White on white,
+    Snow on whiter amaranth,
+    Snow on hoar-frost,
+    Snow on snow,
+    Snow on whitest buds of myrrh.
+
+_Antistrophe_
+
+    But of her,
+    We can say that she is fair;
+    For we know underneath
+    All the wanness,
+    All the heat
+    (In her blanched face)
+    Of desire
+    Is caught in her eyes as fire
+    In the dark center leaf
+    Of the white Syrian iris.
+
+_The rather hard, hieratic precision of the music--its stately pause and
+beat--is broken now into irregular lilt and rhythm of strings._
+
+_Four tall young women, very young matrons, enter in a group. They stand
+clear and fair, but this little group entirely lacks the austere
+precision of the procession of maidens just preceding them. They pause
+in the center of the stage; turn, one three-quarter, two in profile and
+the fourth full face; they stand, turned as if confiding in each other
+like a Tanagra group._
+
+_They sing lightly, their flower trays under their arms._
+
+    Along the yellow sand
+    Above the rocks
+    The laurel-bushes stand.
+    Against the shimmering heat
+    Each separate leaf
+    Is bright and cold,
+    And through the bronze
+    Of shining bark and wood
+    Run the fine threads of gold.
+
+    Here in our wicker-trays,
+    We bring the first faint blossoming
+    Of fragrant bays:
+
+    Lady, their blushes shine
+    As faint in hue
+    As when through petals
+    Of a laurel-rose
+    The sun shines through,
+    And throws a purple shadow
+    On a marble vase.
+
+    (Ah, love,
+    So her fair breasts will shine
+    With the faint shadow above.)
+
+_The harp chords become again more regular in simple definite rhythm.
+The music is not so intense as the bride-chorus; and quieter, more
+sedate, than the notes preceding the entrance of the last group._
+
+_Five or six slightly older serene young women enter in processional
+form; each holding before her, with precise bending of arms, coverlets
+and linen, carefully folded, as if for the bride couch. The garments are
+purple, scarlet and deep blue, with edge of gold._
+
+_They sing to blending of wood-wind and harp._
+
+    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.
+
+_The wood-winds become more rich and resonant. A tall youth crosses the
+stage as if seeking the bride door. The music becomes very rich, full of
+color._
+
+_The figure itself is a flame, an exaggerated symbol; the hair a flame;
+the wings, deep red or purple, stand out against the curtains in a
+contrasting or almost clashing shade of purple. The tunic, again a rich
+purple or crimson, falls almost to the knees. The knees are bare; the
+sandals elaborately strapped over and over. The curtain seems a rich
+purple cloud, the figure, still brighter, like a flamboyant bird, half
+emerged in the sunset._
+
+_Love pauses just outside the bride's door with his gift, a tuft of
+black-purple cyclamen. He sings to the accompaniment of wood-winds, in a
+rich, resonant voice:_
+
+    The crimson cover of her bed
+    Is not so rich, nor so deeply bled
+    The purple-fish that dyed it red,
+    As when in a hot sheltered glen
+    There flowered these stalks of cyclamen:
+
+    (Purple with honey-points
+    Of horns for petals;
+    Sweet and dark and crisp,
+    As fragrant as her maiden kiss.)
+
+    There with his honey-seeking lips
+    The bee clings close and warmly sips,
+    And seeks with honey-thighs to sway
+    And drink the very flower away.
+
+    (Ah, stern the petals drawing back;
+    Ah rare, ah virginal her breath!)
+
+    Crimson, with honey-seeking lips,
+    The sun lies hot across his back,
+    The gold is decked across his wings.
+    Quivering he sways and quivering clings
+    (Ah, rare her shoulders drawing back!)
+    One moment, then the plunderer slips
+    Between the purple flower-lips.
+
+_Love passes out with a crash of cymbals. There is a momentary pause and
+the music falls into its calm, wave-like rhythm._
+
+_A band of boys passes before the curtain. They pass from side to side,
+crossing and re-crossing; but their figures never confuse one another,
+the outlines are never blurred. They stand out against the curtain with
+symbolic gesture, stooping as if to gather up the wreaths, or swaying
+with long stiff branch as if to sweep the fallen petals from the
+floor._
+
+_There is no marked melody from the instruments, but the boys' voices,
+humming lightly as they enter, gradually evolve a little dance song.
+There are no words but the lilt up and down of the boys' tenor voices._
+
+_Then, as if they had finished the task of gathering up the wreaths and
+sweeping the petals, they stand in groups of two before the pillars
+where the torches have been placed. They lift the torches from the
+brackets. They hold them aloft between them, one torch to each two boys.
+Their figures are cut against the curtain like the simple, triangular
+design on the base of a vase or frieze--the boys' heads on a level, the
+torches above them._
+
+_They sing in clear, half-subdued voices._
+
+    Where love is king,
+    Ah, there is little need
+    To dance and sing,
+    With bridal-torch to flare
+    Amber and scatter light
+    Across the purple air,
+    To sing and dance
+    To flute-note and to reed.
+
+    Where love is come
+    (Ah, love is come indeed!)
+    Our limbs are numb
+    Before his fiery need;
+    With all their glad
+    Rapture of speech unsaid,
+    Before his fiery lips
+    Our lips are mute and dumb.
+
+    Ah, sound of reed,
+    Ah, flute and trumpet wail,
+    Ah, joy decreed--
+    The fringes of her veil
+    Are seared and white;
+    Across the flare of light,
+    Blinded the torches fail.
+    (Ah, love is come indeed!)
+
+_At the end of the song, the torches flicker out and the figures are no
+longer distinguishable in the darkness. They pass out like shadows. The
+purple curtain hangs black and heavy._
+
+_The music dies away and is finally cut short with a few deep, muted
+chords._
+
+
+
+
+DEMETER
+
+
+    I
+
+    Men, fires, feasts,
+    steps of temple, fore-stone, lintel,
+    step of white altar, fire and after-fire,
+    slaughter before,
+    fragment of burnt meat,
+    deep mystery, grapple of mind to reach
+    the tense thought,
+    power and wealth, purpose and prayer alike,
+    (men, fires, feasts, temple steps)--useless.
+
+    Useless to me who plant
+    wide feet on a mighty plinth,
+    useless to me who sit,
+    wide of shoulder, great of thigh,
+    heavy in gold, to press
+    gold back against solid back
+    of the marble seat:
+    useless the dragons wrought on the arms,
+    useless the poppy-buds and the gold inset
+    of the spray of wheat.
+
+    Ah they have wrought me heavy
+    and great of limb--
+    she is slender of waist,
+    slight of breast, made of many fashions;
+    they have set _her_ small feet
+    on many a plinth;
+    she they have known,
+    she they have spoken with,
+    she they have smiled upon,
+    she they have caught
+    and flattered with praise and gifts.
+
+    But useless the flattery
+    of the mighty power
+    they have granted me:
+    for I will not stay in her breast
+    the great of limb,
+    though perfect the shell they have
+    fashioned me, these men!
+
+    Do I sit in the market place--
+    do I smile, does a noble brow
+    bend like the brow of Zeus--
+    am I a spouse, his or any,
+    am I a woman, or goddess or queen,
+    to be met by a god with a smile--and left?
+
+
+    II
+
+    Do you ask for a scroll,
+    parchment, oracle, prophecy, precedent;
+    do you ask for tablets marked with thought
+    or words cut deep on the marble surface,
+    do you seek measured utterance or the mystic trance?
+
+    Sleep on the stones of Delphi--
+    dare the ledges of Pallas
+    but keep me foremost,
+    keep me before you, after you, with you,
+    never forget when you start
+    for the Delphic precipice,
+    never forget when you seek Pallas
+    and meet in thought
+    yourself drawn out from yourself
+    like the holy serpent,
+    never forget
+    in thought or mysterious trance--
+    I am greatest and least.
+
+    Soft are the hands of Love,
+    soft, soft are his feet;
+    you who have twined myrtle,
+    have you brought crocuses,
+    white as the inner
+    stript bark of the osier,
+    have you set
+    black crocus against the black
+    locks of another?
+
+
+    III
+
+    Of whom do I speak?
+
+    Many the children of gods
+    but first I take
+    Bromios, fostering prince,
+    lift from the ivy brake, a king.
+
+    Enough of the lightning,
+    enough of the tales that speak
+    of the death of the mother:
+    strange tales of a shelter
+    brought to the unborn,
+    enough of tale, myth, mystery, precedent--
+    a child lay on the earth asleep.
+
+    Soft are the hands of Love,
+    but what soft hands
+    clutched at the thorny ground,
+    scratched like a small white ferret
+    or foraging whippet or hound,
+    sought nourishment and found
+    only the crackling of ivy,
+    dead ivy leaf and the white
+    berry, food for a bird,
+    no food for this who sought,
+    bending small head in a fever,
+    whining with little breath.
+
+    Ah, small black head,
+    ah, the purple ivy bush,
+    ah, berries that shook and spilt
+    on the form beneath,
+    who begot you and left?
+
+    Though I begot no man child
+    all my days,
+    the child of my heart and spirit,
+    is the child the gods desert
+    alike and the mother in death--
+    the unclaimed Dionysios.
+
+
+    IV
+
+    _What of her--
+    mistress of Death?_
+
+    Form of a golden wreath
+    were my hands that girt her head,
+    fingers that strove to meet,
+    and met where the whisps escaped
+    from the fillet, of tenderest gold,
+    small circlet and slim
+    were my fingers then.
+
+    Now they are wrought of iron
+    to wrest from earth
+    secrets; strong to protect,
+    strong to keep back the winter
+    when winter tracks too soon
+    blanch the forest:
+    strong to break dead things,
+    the young tree, drained of sap,
+    the old tree, ready to drop,
+    to lift from the rotting bed
+    of leaves, the old
+    crumbling pine tree stock,
+    to heap bole and knot of fir
+    and pine and resinous oak,
+    till fire shatter the dark
+    and hope of spring
+    rise in the hearts of men.
+
+    _What of her--
+    mistress of Death--
+    what of his kiss?_
+
+    Ah, strong were his arms to wrest
+    slight limbs from the beautiful earth,
+    young hands that plucked the first
+    buds of the chill narcissus,
+    soft fingers that broke
+    and fastened the thorny stalk
+    with the flower of wild acanthus.
+
+    Ah, strong were the arms that took
+    (ah evil, the heart and graceless,)
+    but the kiss was less passionate!
+
+
+
+
+SIMAETHA
+
+
+    Drenched with purple,
+    drenched with dye, my wool,
+    bind you the wheel-spokes--
+    turn, turn, turn my wheel!
+
+    Drenched with purple,
+    steeped in the red pulp
+    of bursting sea-sloes--
+    turn, turn, turn my wheel!
+
+    (Ah did he think
+    I did not know,
+    I did not feel--
+    what wrack, what weal for him:
+    golden one, golden one,
+    turn again Aphrodite with the yellow zone,
+    I am cursed, cursed, undone!
+    Ah and my face, Aphrodite,
+    beside your gold,
+    is cut out of white stone!)
+
+    Laurel blossom and the red seed
+    of the red vervain weed,
+    burn, crackle in the fire,
+    burn, crackle for my need!
+    Laurel leaf, O fruited
+    branch of bay,
+    burn, burn away
+    thought, memory and hurt!
+
+    (Ah when he comes,
+    stumbling across my sill,
+    will he find me still,
+    fragrant as the white privet,
+    or as a bone,
+    polished in wet and sun,
+    worried of wild beaks,
+    and of the whelps' teeth--
+    worried of flesh,
+    left to bleach under the sun,
+    white as ash bled of heat,
+    white as hail blazing in sheet-lightning,
+    white as forked lightning
+    rending the sleet?)
+
+
+
+
+THETIS
+
+
+    I
+
+    On the paved parapet
+    you will step carefully
+    from amber stones to onyx
+    flecked with violet,
+    mingled with light,
+    half showing the sea-grass
+    and sea-sand underneath,
+    reflecting your white feet
+    and the gay strap crimson
+    as lily-buds of Arion,
+    and the gold that binds your feet.
+
+
+    II
+
+    You will pass
+    beneath the island disk
+    (and myrtle-wood,
+    the carved support of it)
+    and the white stretch
+    of its white beach,
+    curved as the moon crescent
+    or ivory when some fine hand
+    chisels it:
+    when the sun slips
+    through the far edge,
+    there is rare amber
+    through the sea,
+    and flecks of it
+    glitter on the dolphin's back
+    and jewelled halter
+    and harness and bit
+    as he sways under it.
+
+
+
+
+CIRCE
+
+
+    It was easy enough
+    to bend them to my wish,
+    it was easy enough
+    to alter them with a touch,
+    but you
+    adrift on the great sea,
+    how shall I call you back?
+
+    Cedar and white ash,
+    rock-cedar and sand plants
+    and tamarisk
+    red cedar and white cedar
+    and black cedar from the inmost forest,
+    fragrance upon fragrance
+    and all of my sea-magic is for nought.
+
+    It was easy enough--
+    a thought called them
+    from the sharp edges of the earth;
+    they prayed for a touch,
+    they cried for the sight of my face,
+    they entreated me
+    till in pity
+    I turned each to his own self.
+
+    Panther and panther,
+    then a black leopard
+    follows close--
+    black panther and red
+    and a great hound,
+    a god-like beast,
+    cut the sand in a clear ring
+    and shut me from the earth,
+    and cover the sea-sound
+    with their throats,
+    and the sea-roar with their own barks
+    and bellowing and snarls,
+    and the sea-stars
+    and the swirl of the sand,
+    and the rock-tamarisk
+    and the wind resonance--
+    but not your voice.
+
+    It is easy enough to call men
+    from the edges of the earth.
+    It is easy enough to summon them to my feet
+    with a thought--
+    it is beautiful to see the tall panther
+    and the sleek deer-hounds
+    circle in the dark.
+
+    It is easy enough
+    to make cedar and white ash fumes
+    into palaces
+    and to cover the sea-caves
+    with ivory and onyx.
+
+    But I would give up
+    rock-fringes of coral
+    and the inmost chamber
+    of my island palace
+    and my own gifts
+    and the whole region
+    of my power and magic
+    for your glance.
+
+
+
+
+LEDA
+
+
+    Where the slow river
+    meets the tide,
+    a red swan lifts red wings
+    and darker beak,
+    and underneath the purple down
+    of his soft breast
+    uncurls his coral feet.
+
+    Through the deep purple
+    of the dying heat
+    of sun and mist,
+    the level ray of sun-beam
+    has caressed
+    the lily with dark breast,
+    and flecked with richer gold
+    its golden crest.
+
+    Where the slow lifting
+    of the tide,
+    floats into the river
+    and slowly drifts
+    among the reeds,
+    and lifts the yellow flags,
+    he floats
+    where tide and river meet.
+
+    Ah kingly kiss--
+    no more regret
+    nor old deep memories
+    to mar the bliss;
+    where the low sedge is thick,
+    the gold day-lily
+    outspreads and rests
+    beneath soft fluttering
+    of red swan wings
+    and the warm quivering
+    of the red swan's breast.
+
+
+
+
+HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES
+
+
+    I worship the greatest first--
+    (it were sweet, the couch,
+    the brighter ripple of cloth
+    over the dipped fleece;
+    the thought: her bones
+    under the flesh are white
+    as sand which along a beach
+    covers but keeps the print
+    of the crescent shapes beneath:
+    I thought:
+    between cloth and fleece,
+    so her body lies.)
+
+    I worship first, the great--
+    (ah, sweet, your eyes--
+    what God, invoked in Crete,
+    gave them the gift to part
+    as the Sidonian myrtle-flower
+    suddenly, wide and swart,
+    then swiftly,
+    the eye-lids having provoked our hearts--
+    as suddenly beat and close.)
+
+    I worship the feet, flawless,
+    that haunt the hills--
+    (ah, sweet, dare I think,
+    beneath fetter of golden clasp,
+    of the rhythm, the fall and rise
+    of yours, carven, slight
+    beneath straps of gold that keep
+    their slender beauty caught,
+    like wings and bodies
+    of trapped birds.)
+
+    I worship the greatest first--
+    (suddenly into my brain--
+    the flash of sun on the snow,
+    the fringe of light and the drift,
+    the crest and the hill-shadow--
+    ah, surely now I forget,
+    ah splendour, my goddess turns:
+    or was it the sudden heat,
+    beneath quivering of molten flesh,
+    of veins, purple as violets?)
+
+
+
+
+CUCKOO SONG
+
+
+    Ah, bird,
+    our love is never spent
+    with your clear note,
+    nor satiate our soul;
+    not song, not wail, not hurt,
+    but just a call summons us
+    with its simple top-note
+    and soft fall;
+
+    not to some rarer heaven
+    of lilies over-tall,
+    nor tuberose set against
+    some sun-lit wall,
+    but to a gracious
+    cedar-palace hall;
+
+    not marble set with purple
+    hung with roses and tall
+    sweet lilies--such
+    as the nightingale
+    would summon for us
+    with her wail--
+    (surely only unhappiness
+    could thrill
+    such a rich madrigal!)
+    not she, the nightingale
+    can fill our souls
+    with such a wistful joy as this:
+
+    nor, bird, so sweet
+    was ever a swallow note--
+    not hers, so perfect
+    with the wing of lazuli
+    and bright breast--
+    nor yet the oriole
+    filling with melody
+    from her fiery throat
+    some island-orchard
+    in a purple sea.
+
+    Ah dear, ah gentle bird,
+    you spread warm length
+    of crimson wool
+    and tinted woven stuff
+    for us to rest upon,
+    nor numb with ecstasy
+    nor drown with death:
+
+    only you soothe, make still
+    the throbbing of our brain:
+    so through her forest trees,
+    when all her hope was gone
+    and all her pain,
+    Calypso heard your call--
+    across the gathering drift
+    of burning cedar-wood,
+    across the low-set bed
+    of wandering parsley and violet,
+    when all her hope was dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLANDS
+
+
+    I
+
+    What are the islands to me,
+    what is Greece,
+    what is Rhodes, Samos, Chios,
+    what is Paros facing west,
+    what is Crete?
+
+    What is Samothrace,
+    rising like a ship,
+    what is Imbros rending the storm-waves
+    with its breast?
+
+    What is Naxos, Paros, Milos,
+    what the circle about Lycia,
+    what, the Cyclades'
+    white necklace?
+
+    What is Greece--
+    Sparta, rising like a rock,
+    Thebes, Athens,
+    what is Corinth?
+
+    What is Euboia
+    with its island violets,
+    what is Euboia, spread with grass,
+    set with swift shoals,
+    what is Crete?
+
+    What are the islands to me,
+    what is Greece?
+
+
+    II
+
+    What can love of land give to me
+    that you have not--
+    what do the tall Spartans know,
+    and gentler Attic folk?
+
+    What has Sparta and her women
+    more than this?
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you are lost--
+    what is Naxos, Tinos, Andros,
+    and Delos, the clasp
+    of the white necklace?
+
+
+    III
+
+    What can love of land give to me
+    that you have not,
+    what can love of strife break in me
+    that you have not?
+
+    Though Sparta enter Athens,
+    Thebes wrack Sparta,
+    each changes as water,
+    salt, rising to wreak terror
+    and fall back.
+
+
+    IV
+
+    "What has love of land given to you
+    that I have not?"
+
+    I have questioned Tyrians
+    where they sat
+    on the black ships,
+    weighted with rich stuffs,
+    I have asked the Greeks
+    from the white ships,
+    and Greeks from ships whose hulks
+    lay on the wet sand, scarlet
+    with great beaks.
+    I have asked bright Tyrians
+    and tall Greeks--
+    "what has love of land given you?"
+    And they answered--"peace."
+
+
+    V
+
+    But beauty is set apart,
+    beauty is cast by the sea,
+    a barren rock,
+    beauty is set about
+    with wrecks of ships,
+    upon our coast, death keeps
+    the shallows--death waits
+    clutching toward us
+    from the deeps.
+
+    Beauty is set apart;
+    the winds that slash its beach,
+    swirl the coarse sand
+    upward toward the rocks.
+
+    Beauty is set apart
+    from the islands
+    and from Greece.
+
+
+    VI
+
+    In my garden
+    the winds have beaten
+    the ripe lilies;
+    in my garden, the salt
+    has wilted the first flakes
+    of young narcissus,
+    and the lesser hyacinth,
+    and the salt has crept
+    under the leaves of the white hyacinth.
+
+    In my garden
+    even the wind-flowers lie flat,
+    broken by the wind at last.
+
+
+    VII
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you are lost,
+    what is Paros to me
+    if your eyes draw back,
+    what is Milos
+    if you take fright of beauty,
+    terrible, torturous, isolated,
+    a barren rock?
+
+    What is Rhodes, Crete,
+    what is Paros facing west,
+    what, white Imbros?
+
+    What are the islands to me
+    if you hesitate,
+    what is Greece if you draw back
+    from the terror
+    and cold splendour of song
+    and its bleak sacrifice?
+
+
+
+
+AT BAIA
+
+
+    I should have thought
+    in a dream you would have brought
+    some lovely, perilous thing,
+    orchids piled in a great sheath,
+    as who would say (in a dream)
+    I send you this,
+    who left the blue veins
+    of your throat unkissed.
+
+    Why was it that your hands
+    (that never took mine)
+    your hands that I could see
+    drift over the orchid heads
+    so carefully,
+    your hands, so fragile, sure to lift
+    so gently, the fragile flower stuff--
+    ah, ah, how was it
+
+    You never sent (in a dream)
+    the very form, the very scent,
+    not heavy, not sensuous,
+    but perilous--perilous--
+    of orchids, piled in a great sheath,
+    and folded underneath on a bright scroll
+    some word:
+
+    Flower sent to flower;
+    for white hands, the lesser white,
+    less lovely of flower leaf,
+
+    or
+
+    Lover to lover, no kiss,
+    no touch, but forever and ever this.
+
+
+
+
+SEA HEROES
+
+
+    Crash on crash of the sea,
+    straining to wreck men, sea-boards, continents,
+    raging against the world, furious,
+    stay at last, for against your fury
+    and your mad fight,
+    the line of heroes stands, god-like:
+
+    Akroneos, Oknolos, Elatreus,
+    helm-of-boat, loosener-of-helm, dweller-by-sea,
+    Nauteus, sea-man,
+    Prumneos, stern-of-ship,
+    Agchialos, sea-girt,
+    Elatreus, oar-shaft:
+    lover-of-the-sea, lover-of-the-sea-ebb,
+    lover-of-the-swift-sea,
+    Ponteus, Proreus, Ooos:
+    Anabesneos, one caught between
+    wave-shock and wave-shock:
+    Eurualos, broad sea-wrack,
+    like Ares, man's death,
+    and Naubolides, best in shape,
+    of all first in size:
+    Phaekous, seas' thunderbolt--
+    ah, crash on crash of great names--
+    man-tamer, man's-help, perfect Laodamos:
+    and last the sons of great Alkinoos,
+    Laodamos, Halios and god-like Clytomeos.
+
+    Of all nations, of all cities,
+    of all continents,
+    she is favoured among the rest,
+    for she gives men as great as the sea,
+    valorous to the fight,
+    to battle against the elements and evil:
+    greater even than the sea,
+    they live beyond wrack and death of cities,
+    and each god-like name spoken
+    is as a shrine in a godless place.
+
+    But to name you,
+    we reverent are breathless,
+    weak with pain and old loss,
+    and exile and despair--
+    our hearts break but to speak
+    your name, Oknaleos--
+    and may we but call you in the feverish wrack
+    of our storm-strewn beach, Eretmeos,
+    and our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed,
+    as the sea may yet be tamed,
+    and we vow to float great ships,
+    named for each hero,
+    and oar-blades, cut out of mountain-trees
+    as such men might have shaped:
+    Eretmeos and the sea is swept,
+    baffled by the lordly shape,
+    Akroneos has pines for his ship's keel;
+    to love, to mate the sea?
+    Ah there is Ponteos,
+    the very deeps roar,
+    hailing you dear--
+    they clamour to Ponteos,
+    and to Proeos
+    leap, swift to kiss, to curl, to creep,
+    lover to mistress.
+
+    What wave, what love, what foam,
+    for Ooos who moves swift as the sea?
+    Ah stay, my heart, the weight
+    of lovers, of loneliness
+    drowns me,
+    alas that their very names
+    so press to break my heart
+    with heart-sick weariness,
+    what would they be,
+    the very gods,
+    rearing their mighty length
+    beside the unharvested sea?
+
+
+
+
+"NOT HONEY"
+
+
+    Not honey,
+    not the plunder of the bee
+    from meadow or sand-flower
+    or mountain bush;
+    from winter-flower or shoot
+    born of the later heat:
+    not honey, not the sweet
+    stain on the lips and teeth:
+    not honey, not the deep
+    plunge of soft belly
+    and the clinging of the gold-edged
+    pollen-dusted feet.
+
+    Not so--
+    though rapture blind my eyes,
+    and hunger crisp
+    dark and inert my mouth,
+    not honey, not the south,
+    not the tall stalk
+    of red twin-lilies,
+    nor light branch of fruit tree
+    caught in flexible light branch.
+
+    Not honey, not the south;
+    ah flower of purple iris,
+    flower of white,
+    or of the iris, withering the grass--
+    for fleck of the sun's fire,
+    gathers such heat and power,
+    that shadow-print is light,
+    cast through the petals
+    of the yellow iris flower.
+
+    Not iris--old desire--old passion--
+    old forgetfulness--old pain--
+    not this, nor any flower,
+    but if you turn again,
+    seek strength of arm and throat,
+    touch as the god;
+    neglect the lyre-note;
+    knowing that you shall feel,
+    about the frame,
+    no trembling of the string
+    but heat, more passionate
+    of bone and the white shell
+    and fiery tempered steel.
+
+
+
+
+EVADNE
+
+
+    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 mate 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.
+
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+
+    You are as gold
+    as the half-ripe grain
+    that merges to gold again,
+    as white as the white rain
+    that beats through
+    the half-opened flowers
+    of the great flower tufts
+    thick on the black limbs
+    of an Illyrian apple bough.
+
+    Can honey distill such fragrance
+    as your bright hair--
+    for your face is as fair as rain,
+    yet as rain that lies clear
+    on white honey-comb,
+    lends radiance to the white wax,
+    so your hair on your brow
+    casts light for a shadow.
+
+
+
+
+WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT
+
+
+    Why have you sought the Greeks, Eros,
+    when such delight was yours
+    in the far depth of sky:
+    there you could note bright ivory
+    take colour where she bent her face,
+    and watch fair gold shed gold
+    on radiant surface of porch and pillar:
+    and ivory and bright gold,
+    polished and lustrous grow faint
+    beside that wondrous flesh
+    and print of her foot-hold:
+    Love, why do you tempt the Grecian porticoes?
+
+    Here men are bent with thought
+    and women waste fair moments
+    gathering lint and pricking coloured stuffs
+    to mar their breasts,
+    while she, adored,
+    wastes not her fingers,
+    worn of fire and sword,
+    wastes not her touch
+    on linen and fine thread,
+    wastes not her head
+    in thought and pondering,
+    Love, why have you sought the horde
+    of spearsmen, why the tent
+    Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
+
+
+
+
+THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD
+
+
+    The whole white world is ours,
+    and the world, purple with rose-bays,
+    bays, bush on bush,
+    group, thicket, hedge and tree,
+    dark islands in a sea
+    of grey-green olive or wild white-olive,
+    cut with the sudden cypress shafts,
+    in clusters, two or three,
+    or with one slender, single cypress-tree.
+
+    Slid from the hill,
+    as crumbling snow-peaks slide,
+    citron on citron fill
+    the valley, and delight
+    waits till our spirits tire
+    of forest, grove and bush
+    and purple flower of the laurel-tree.
+
+    Yet not one wearies,
+    joined is each to each
+    in happiness complete
+    with bush and flower:
+    ours is the wind-breath
+    at the hot noon-hour,
+    ours is the bee's soft belly
+    and the blush of the rose-petal,
+    lifted, of the flower.
+
+
+
+
+PHAEDRA
+
+
+    Think, O my soul,
+    of the red sand of Crete;
+    think of the earth; the heat
+    burnt fissures like the great
+    backs of the temple serpents;
+    think of the world you knew;
+    as the tide crept, the land
+    burned with a lizard-blue
+    where the dark sea met the sand.
+
+    Think, O my soul--
+    what power has struck you blind--
+    is there no desert-root, no forest-berry
+    pine-pitch or knot of fir
+    known that can help the soul
+    caught in a force, a power,
+    passionless, not its own?
+
+    So I scatter, so implore
+    Gods of Crete, summoned before
+    with slighter craft;
+    ah, hear my prayer:
+
+    Grant to my soul
+    the body that it wore,
+    trained to your thought,
+    that kept and held your power,
+    as the petal of black poppy,
+    the opiate of the flower.
+
+    For art undreamt in Crete,
+    strange art and dire,
+    in counter-charm prevents my charm
+    limits my power:
+    pine-cone I heap,
+    grant answer to my prayer.
+
+    No more, my soul--
+    as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,
+    burns till beside it, noon's bright heat
+    is withered, filled with dust--
+    and into that noon-heat
+    grown drab and stale,
+    suddenly wind and thunder and swift rain,
+    till the scarlet flower is wrecked
+    in the slash of the white hail.
+
+    The poppy that my heart was,
+    formed to blind all mortals,
+    made to strike and gather hearts
+    like flame upon an altar,
+    fades and shrinks, a red leaf
+    drenched and torn in the cold rain.
+
+
+
+
+SHE CONTRASTS WITH HERSELF HIPPOLYTA
+
+
+    Can flame beget white steel--
+    ah no, it could not take
+    within my reins its shelter;
+    steel must seek steel,
+    or hate make out of joy
+    a whet-stone for a sword;
+    sword against flint,
+    Theseus sought Hippolyta;
+    she yielded not nor broke,
+    sword upon stone,
+    from the clash leapt a spark,
+    Hippolytus, born of hate.
+
+    What did she think
+    when all her strength
+    was twisted for his bearing;
+    did it break,
+    even within her sheltered heart, a song,
+    some whispered note,
+    distant and faint as this:
+
+    _Love that I bear
+    within my breast
+    how is my armour melted
+    how my heart:
+    as an oak-tree
+    that keeps beneath the snow,
+    the young bark fresh
+    till the spring cast
+    from off its shoulders
+    the white snow
+    so does my armour melt._
+
+    _Love that I bear
+    within my heart, O speak;
+    tell how beneath the serpent-spotted shell,
+    the cygnets wait,
+    how the soft owl
+    opens and flicks with pride,
+    eye-lids of great bird-eyes,
+    when underneath its breast
+    the owlets shrink and turn._
+
+    You have the power,
+    (then did she say) Artemis,
+    benignity to grant
+    forgiveness that I gave
+    no quarter to an enemy who cast
+    his armour on the forest-moss,
+    and took, unmatched in an uneven contest,
+    Hippolyta who relented not,
+    returned and sought no kiss.
+
+    Then did she pray: Artemis,
+    grant that no flower
+    be grafted alien on a broken stalk,
+    no dark flame-laurel on the stricken crest
+    of a wild mountain-poplar;
+    grant in my thought,
+    I never yield but wait,
+    entreating cold white river,
+    mountain-pool and salt:
+    let all my veins be ice,
+    until they break
+    (strength of white beach,
+    rock of mountain land,
+    forever to you, Artemis, dedicate)
+    from out my reins,
+    those small, cold hands.
+
+
+
+
+SHE REBUKES HIPPOLYTA
+
+
+    Was she so chaste?
+
+    Swift and a broken rock
+    clatters across the steep shelf
+    of the mountain slope,
+    sudden and swift
+    and breaks as it clatters down
+    into the hollow breach
+    of the dried water-course:
+    far and away
+    (through fire I see it,
+    and smoke of the dead, withered stalks
+    of the wild cistus-brush)
+    Hippolyta, frail and wild,
+    galloping up the slope
+    between great boulder and rock
+    and group and cluster of rock.
+
+    Was she so chaste,
+    (I see it, sharp, this vision,
+    and each fleck on the horse's flanks
+    of foam, and bridle and bit,
+    silver, and the straps,
+    wrought with their perfect art,
+    and the sun,
+    striking athwart the silver-work,
+    and the neck, strained forward, ears alert,
+    and the head of a girl
+    flung back and her throat.)
+
+    Was she so chaste--
+    (Ah, burn my fire, I ask
+    out of the smoke-ringed darkness
+    enclosing the flaming disk
+    of my vision)
+    I ask for a voice to answer:
+    was she chaste?
+
+    Who can say--
+    the broken ridge of the hills
+    was the line of a lover's shoulder,
+    his arm-turn, the path to the hills,
+    the sudden leap and swift thunder
+    of mountain boulders, his laugh.
+
+    She was mad--
+    as no priest, no lover's cult
+    could grant madness;
+    the wine that entered her throat
+    with the touch of the mountain rocks
+    was white, intoxicant:
+    she, the chaste,
+    was betrayed by the glint
+    of light on the hills,
+    the granite splinter of rocks,
+    the touch of the stone
+    where heat melts
+    toward the shadow-side of the rocks.
+
+
+
+
+EGYPT
+
+(TO E. A. POE)
+
+
+    Egypt had cheated us,
+    for Egypt took
+    through guile and craft
+    our treasure and our hope,
+    Egypt had maimed us,
+    offered dream for life,
+    an opiate for a kiss,
+    and death for both.
+
+    White poison flower we loved
+    and the black spike
+    of an ungarnered bush--
+    (a spice--or without taste--
+    we wondered--then we asked
+    others to take and sip
+    and watched their death)
+    Egypt we loved, though hate
+    should have withheld our touch.
+
+    Egypt had given us knowledge,
+    and we took, blindly,
+    through want of heart,
+    what Egypt brought;
+    knowing all poison,
+    what was that or this,
+    more or less perilous,
+    than this or that.
+
+    We pray you, Egypt,
+    by what perverse fate,
+    has poison brought with knowledge,
+    given us this--
+    not days of trance,
+    shadow, fore-doom of death,
+    but passionate grave thought,
+    belief enhanced,
+    ritual returned and magic;
+
+    Even in the uttermost black pit
+    of the forbidden knowledge,
+    wisdom's glance,
+    the grey eyes following
+    in the mid-most desert--
+    great shaft of rose,
+    fire shed across our path,
+    upon the face grown grey, a light,
+    Hellas re-born from death.
+
+
+
+
+HELIOS
+
+
+    _Helios makes all things right:--
+    night brands and chokes
+    as if destruction broke
+    over furze and stone and crop
+    of myrtle-shoot and field-wort,
+    destroyed with flakes of iron,
+    the bracken-stems,
+    where tender roots were sown,
+    blight, chaff and waste
+    of darkness to choke and drown._
+
+    _A curious god to find,
+    yet in the end faithful;
+    bitter, the Kyprian's feet--
+    ah flecks of whited clay,
+    great hero, vaunted lord--
+    ah petal, dust and wind-fall
+    on the ground--queen awaiting queen._
+
+    _Better the weight, they tell,
+    the helmet's beaten shell,
+    Athene's riven steel,
+    caught over the white skull,
+    Athene sets to heal
+    the few who merit it._
+
+    _Yet even then, what help,
+    should he not turn and note
+    the height of forehead and the mark of conquest,
+    draw near and try the helmet;
+    to left--reset the crown
+    Athene weighted down,
+    or break with a light touch
+    mayhap the steel set to protect;
+    to slay or heal._
+
+    _A treacherous god, they say,
+    yet who would wait to test
+    justice or worth or right,
+    when through a fetid night
+    is wafted faint and nearer--
+    then straight as point of steel
+    to one who courts swift death,
+    scent of Hesperidean orange-spray._
+
+
+
+
+PRAYER
+
+
+    White, O white face--
+    from disenchanted days
+    wither alike dark rose
+    and fiery bays:
+    no gift within our hands,
+    nor strength to praise,
+    only defeat and silence;
+    though we lift hands, disenchanted,
+    of small strength, nor raise
+    branch of the laurel
+    or the light of torch,
+    but fold the garment
+    on the riven locks,
+    yet hear, all-merciful, and touch
+    the fore-head, dim, unlit of pride and thought,
+    Mistress--be near!
+    Give back the glamour to our will,
+    the thought; give back the tool,
+    the chisel; once we wrought
+    things not unworthy,
+    sandal and steel-clasp;
+    silver and steel, the coat
+    with white leaf-pattern
+    at the arm and throat:
+    silver and metal, hammered for the ridge
+    of shield and helmet-rim;
+    white silver with the dark hammered in,
+    belt, staff and magic spear-shaft
+    with the gilt spark at the point and hilt.
+
+_Printed in England at the Pelican Press, 2 Carmelite Street, London,
+E.C._
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+  | Transcriber's Notes                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | Page 42: though amended to through ("through fire I see      |
+  | it, ...")                                                    |
+  |                                                              |
+  | Hyphenation has generally been standardized. However, when a |
+  | word appears hyphenated and unhyphenated an equal number of  |
+  | times, both versions have been retained (forehead/           |
+  | fore-head).                                                  |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hymen, by Hilda Doolittle
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