Garden Poem by Hilda Doolittle

Hilda Doolittle

Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

Garden

Rating: 4.3


I

You are clear
O rose, cut in rock,
hard as the descent of hail.

I could scrape the colour
from the petals
like spilt dye from a rock.

If I could break you
I could break a tree.

If I could stir
I could break a tree—
I could break you.


II

O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air—
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat—
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 02 April 2020

Fruit cannot drop through this thick air— fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes. beautiful poem

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Susan Williams 02 April 2018

The second part of this poem is posted here as a separate poem. Odd. But then I think a rose as a stone is odd too.

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Hilda Doolittle

Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
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