Hilda Doolittle

(10 September 1886 – 27 September 1961 / Bethlehem, Pennsylvania)

Acon - Poem by Hilda Doolittle

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

I choose spray of dittany,
cyperum, frail of flower,
buds of myrrh,
all-healing herbs,
close pressed in calathes.

For she lies panting,
drawing sharp breath,
broken with harsh sobs.
she, Hyella,
whom no god pities.

Comments about Acon by Hilda Doolittle

  • Rookie Andrew Lord (9/4/2013 11:24:00 AM)

    This is only the first part of this (great) poem (Report) Reply

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  • Rookie Anita Cox (4/16/2008 1:55:00 PM)

    this shit is to hard! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: flower, river, god

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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