red rhododendron.
4
Salt, salt the kiss
of beauty where Love is,
salt, salt the refrain,
beat, beat again,
say again,
again,
Beauty,
our King
is slain;
beautiful the hands,
beautiful the feet,
the thighs beautiful;
O is it right,
is it meet?
we have dared too long to worship
an idol,
to worship drab sack-cloth,
to worship dead candles;
light the candles, sing;
tear down every effigy,
for none has granted
him beauty;
too long,
too long in the dark,
the sea howls,
and the wind,
a shark rises
to tear
teeth, jaws; revels in horrors;
too long, too long,
have we propitiated the terror in the sea,
forgotten its beauty,
5
I instil rest;
there is no faith and no hope
without sleep;
the poppy-seed is alive to wake
you to another world,
take:
take the poppy-seed,
one grain has more worth than fields of ripe grain or
barley,
no yield of a thousand and thousand measure,
baskets piled up and pressed down,
no measure running over, can yield
such treasure;
He said,
consider the flower of the field;
did he specify
blue or red?
6
Too long we prayed
God in the thunder,
wonderful though he be
and our father;
too long, too long in the rain,
cowering lest he strike again;
showering peril,
disclosing our evil;
He was right, we knew;
so we fled
him in rocks,
cowered from the Power overhead,
ate grass like the ox;
we will submit;
yes, we bled,
cut ourselves to propitiate
his wrath;
for we asked,
what, what awaits us,
once dead?
we never heard the Magician
we never, never heard what he said.
7
We expected some gesture,
some actor-logic,
some turn of the head,
he spoke simply;
we had followed the priest and the answering word
of the people;
to this,
was no answer;
we expected some threat or some promise,
some disclosure,
we were not as these others;
but he spoke to the rabble;
dead,
dead,
dead were our ears
that heard not, yet heard.
8
A basket,
a fish
or fish net,
the knot of the cord
that fastens the boat,
the oar
or the rudder,
the board or the sail-cloth,
the wind as it lifts sand and grass, the grass
and the flower in the grass;
the grape,
the grape-leaf,
the half-opened tendril,
the red grape, the white grape, the blue grape,
the size of the wood-vine stock,
its roots in the earth,
its bark and its contour,
the shape of the olive,
the goat,
the kid and the lamb,
the sheep,
the shepherd,
his wood-pipe,
his hound,
the wild-bird,
the bird untrapped,
the bird sold in the market;
the laying of fish on the embers,
the taste of the fish,
the feel of the texture of bread,
the round and the half-loaf,
the grain of a petal,
the rain-bow and the rain;
he named these things simply;
sat down at our table,
stood,
named salt,
called to a friend;
he named herbs and simples,
what garnish?
a fine taste,
he called for some ripe wine;
peeled a plum,
remembered the brass bowl
lest he stain
our host’s towel;
was courteous,
not over-righteous;
why a girl came where he sat,
flung a rose from a basket,
and one broke
a fine box
of Cyprian ivory,
(or alabaster)
a rare scent.
9
He liked jewels,
the fine feel of white pearls;
he would lift a pearl from a tray,
flatter an Ethiopian merchant
on his taste;
lift crystal from Syria,
to the light;
he would see worlds in a crystal
and while we waited for a camel
or a fine Roman’s litter
to crowd past,
he would tell of the whorl of whorl of light
that was infinity to be seen in glass,
or a shell
or a bead
or a pearl.
From Sigil
XI
If you take the moon in your hands
and turn it round
(heavy, slightly tarnished platter)
you’re there;
if you pull dry sea-weed from the sand
and turn it round
and wonder at the underside’s bright amber,
your eyes
look out as they did here,
(you don’t remember)
when my soul turned round,
perceiving the other-side of everything,
mullein-leaf, dog-wood leaf, moth-wing
and dandelion-seed under the ground.
XII
Are these ashes in my hand
or a wand
to conjure a butterfly
out of a nest,
a dragon-fly
out of a leaf,
a moon-flower
from a flower-husk,
or fire-flies
from a thicket?
XIV
Now let the cycle sweep us here and there,
we will not struggle,
somewhere,
under a forest-ledge,
a wild white-pear
will blossom;
somewhere,
under an edge of rock,
a sea will open;
slice of the tide-shelf
will show in coral, yourself,
in conch-shell, myself;
somewhere,
over a field-hedge,
a wild bird
will lift up wild, wild throat,
and that song heard,
will stifle out this note
and this song note.
XV
So if you love me,
love me everywhere,
blind to all argument
or phantasy,
claim the one signet;
truly in the sky,
God marked me to be his,
scrawled, “I, I, I
alone can comprehend
this subtlety”:
a song is very simple
or is bound
with inter-woven complicated sound;
one undertakes
the song’s integrity
,
another all the filament
wound round
chord and discord,
the quarter-note and whole
run of iambic
or of coryamb:
“no one can grasp,”
(God wrote)
“nor understand
the two, insolvent,
only he and you”;
shall we two witness
that his writ is wise
or shall we rise,
wing-tip to purple wing,
create new earth,
new skies?
XVI
But it won’t be that way,
I’m sane,
normal again;
I’m sane,
normal as when
we last sat in this room
with other people who spoke
pleasant speakable things;
though
you lifted your brow
as a sun-parched branch to the rain,
and I lifted my soul
as from the northern gloom,
an ice-flower to the sun,
they didn’t know
how
my heart woke
to a range and measure
of song
I hadn’t known;
as yours spoke through your eyes,
I recalled
a trivial little joke we had,
lest the others see
how the walls stretched out
to desert and sand,
the Symplegedes
and the sea.
XVII
Time breaks the barrier,
we are on a reef,
wave lengthens on to sand,
sand keeps wave-beat
furrowed in its heart,
so keep print of my hand;
you are the sea-surge,
lift me from the land,
let me be swept out in you,
let me slake the last,
last ultimate thirst;
I am you;
you are cursed;
men have cursed God,
let me be no more man,
God has cursed man,
let me go out and sink
into the ultimate sleep;
take me,
let your hand
gather my throat,
flower from that land
we both have loved,
have lost;
O wand of ebony, keep away the night,
O ivory wand,
bring back the ultimate light
on Delphic headland;
take me,
O ultimate breath,
O master-lyrist,
beat my wild heart to death.
XVIII
Are we unfathomable night
with the new moon
to give it depth
and carry vision further,
or are we rather stupid,
marred with feeling?
will we gain all things,
being over-fearful,
or will we lose the clue,
miss out the sense
of all the scrawled script,
being over-careful?
is each one’s reticence
the other’s food,
or is this mood
sheer poison to the other?
how do I know
what pledge you gave your God,
how do you know
who is my Lord
and Lover?
XIX
“I love you,”
spoken in rhapsodic metre,
leaves me cold:
I have a horror
of finality,
I would rather guess,
wonder whether
either of us
could for a moment
endure the other,
after the first fine flavour
of irony
had worn off.
Calypso
I
CALYPSO
(perceiving the long-wandering Odysseus,
clambering ashore) Clumsy futility, drown yourself —
did I ask you to this rock-shelf,
did I lure you here?
did I call far and near,
come, come Odysseus,
you, you, you alone
are the unmatchable mate,
my own?
sea-nymph may sing;
I didn’t say anything
even to the air;
I was alone,
bound hair,
unbound
and let it fall,
wound in no fillet nor any pearl
nor coral,
only nodded
peaceful things;
I asked no wings
to lift me to mid-heaven,
to drop me to earth;
I was alone now
my beautiful peace has gone;
did I ask you here?
O laugh, most intimate waters,
little cove
and the answering ripples
of the spring
that sends clear water to the salt,
tell me,
did I whisper to you ought
that would work a charm?
did I, unwittingly,
invoke some swallow
to fly low,
to beat into the hollow
of those great eyes,
stupid as an ox,
wide with surprise?
did I? did I?
I am priestess, occult, nymph
and goddess,
then what was my fault?
there must have been fault
somewhere,
in the wind,
in the air,
some counter-trick
to mock magic,
some counter-smile
some malign goddess
to smile awry,
O see, Calypso, poor girl,
is caught at last;
O oaf, O ass,
O any slow, plodding and silly
animal,
O man,
I am amused to think you may
fall;
here where I feel
maiden-hair,
where I clutch the root of the
sea-bay,
where I slide a thin foot along
a crack,
you will slip;
you are heavy,
great oaf,
walrus,
whale, clumsy on land,
clumsy with your great arms
with an oar
at sea;
you have no wit in the air,
you are fit only to clamber
to climb, then to fall;
then to fall;
you will slide clumsy
unto the sand.
ODYSSEUS On land, I know my way
as well as by sea,
she who is light as a bird,
who shouts wilful words
back to me,
shall know,
Odysseus is at home; witness O land,
O rock,
O little fern that is torn here,
where my hand fondles the rock,
to set back the torn root,
O shoot of bay-tree, here
a hand tore
a leaf,
leaf is scattered,
a shredded branch
lies below on the shore
making a letter;
I lean forward to read-alpha? it
must be —
well begin then —
climb higher —
what letter did the branch make?
omega-the end?
a snake, wound to a cypher,
nothing, nothing for you
O land-lover,
but to follow;
Odysseus,
climb higher!
CALYPSO Idiot;
did he think he could reach the
ledge?
why, already he leans over the
edge;
he is dizzy,
he will fall —
shout, shout O sea-gulls,
large pickings for the wrasse,
the eel;
we eat Odysseus, the land-walrus
to-morrow with parsley
and bean-sauce —
eat,
that’s what I could do;
eat fruit —
drink deep from crystal ball
ODYSSEUS Where has she flown?
ah, a wild-plum branch has
caught —
what?
the gilt clasp of a sandal?
vanity for a nymph —
a nymph is a woman
CALYPSO
(below in the cave) What is that?
ODYSSEUS Ah, I see,
a narrow track concealed,
and not too carefully.
CALYPSO Isn’t he drowned yet?
ODYSSEUS
(peers down) There she is under the ground.
CALYPSO (in the cave) Now I am free;
no one can find,
no one can follow —
ODYSSEUS -but me.
CALYPSO Vision of obscene force
what brought you here?
away —
evil goddesses of the west,
I will counter-provoke the
elements —
will flood your shallow sands
with sea-water —
my father —
ODYSSEUS Your father?
CALYPSO A king, a god —
owner of ocean —
ODYSSEUS
(clasps her) All men are fathers,
kings and gods
CALYPSO Too soon—O hound —
beast of an insensitive pack —
you can not take me that way —
ODYSSEUS A nymph is a woman.
CALYPSO No human to weep
like your Greek —
ODYSSEUS Laugh then.
CALYPSO Not at the command of men.
ODYSSEUS You will do as I say —
why did you wear sandals like a
woman,
if you are not human?
CALYPSO I am half of the air —
the rocks hurt my feet —
ODYSSEUS (drops her) Beware you will moan soon that you are not all woman.
CALYPSO (her hair spread on his chest. He sleeps) What did he say?
O you gods—O you gods —
he shall never get away.
II
CALYPSO (on land) O you clouds,
here is my song;
man is clumsy and evil,
a devil.
O you sand,
this is my command,
drown all men in slow breathless
suffocation then they may understand.
O you winds,
Selected Poems of Hilda Doolittle Page 7