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Acon by Hilda Doolittle

10/13/2008 10:25:37 PM

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Hilda Doolittle
(1886 - 1961)

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Acon

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.

Hilda Doolittle

Read poems about / on: flower, river, god

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Anita Cox (4/16/2008 1:55:00 PM)
this shit is to hard!

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10/13/2008 10:25:37 PM. You Are Here: Acon by Hilda Doolittle