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


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.

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Comments (2)

This is only the first part of this (great) poem
this shit is to hard!