#Americans #Imagist #Women #FreeVerse #Imagery
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
You are clear O rose, cut in rock, hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals
YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through
So you have swept me back, I who could have walked with the l… above the earth, I who could have slept among the l… at last;
Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone
Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,
O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air—
I first tasted under Apollo’s lip… love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs b…
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Hymen, O Hymen king, what bitter thing is this? what shaft, tearing my heart? what scar, what light, what fire searing my eye—balls and my eyes w…
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light
