At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;
and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;
before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.
remember the golden apple-trees;
O, do not pity them, as you watch them drop
one by one,
for they fall exhausted, numb, blind
but in certain ecstasy,
for theirs is the hunger for Paradise.
...if you do not even understand what words say,
how can you expect to pass judgement
on what words conceal?
Stichwörter: words poetry poets modernism conceal doolittle h-d hilda
...if you do not even understand what words say, how can you expect to pass judgement on what words conceal?
H.D.Stichwörter: words poetry conceal
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
H.D.let us not teach / what we have learned badly / and not profited by
H.D.Let us search the old highways.
H.D.grape, knife, cup, wheat / are symbols in eternity, / and every concrete object / has abstract value, is timeless / in the dream parallel
H.D.yet for all your arrogance
and your glance,
I tell you this:
such loss is no loss,
such terror, such coils and strands and pitfalls
of blackness
such terror
is no loss;
hell is no worse than your earth
above the earth,
hell is no worse,
no, nor your flowers
nor your veins of light
nor your presence,
a loss;
my hell is no worse than yours
though you pass among the flowers and speak
with the spirits above the earth.
Stichwörter: part-v-of-eurydice
Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
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