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Dance until the earth dance.
Hilda Doolittle
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Hilda Doolittle
Earth
Dancing
Dance
More quotes by Hilda Doolittle
Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
Hilda Doolittle
Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
Hilda Doolittle
The fallen hazel-nuts, Stripped late of their green sheaths, The grapes, red-purple, Their berries Dripping with wine, Pomegranates already broken, And shrunken fig, And quinces untouched, I bring thee as offering.
Hilda Doolittle
Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.
Hilda Doolittle
Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
Hilda Doolittle
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle
Maid of the luminous grey-eyes, Mistress of honey and marble implacable white thighs and Goddess, chaste daughter of Zeus.
Hilda Doolittle
War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
Hilda Doolittle
I myself have seen the floating ships And nothing will ever be the same The shouts, The harrowing voices within the house. I stand apart with an army: My mind is graven with ships.
Hilda Doolittle
For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
Hilda Doolittle
Long hours trail in their purple and long years are lost in just this moment while our souls are near, our mouths separate.
Hilda Doolittle
I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
Hilda Doolittle
The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
Hilda Doolittle
War wreaked on you his hideous ravishment We, we alone, Nereids inviolate, Remain to weep, with the sea-birds to chant: Corinth is lost, Corinth is desolate.
Hilda Doolittle
I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
Hilda Doolittle
I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
The race may or may not be to the swift, but tell me, is it likely that the fight will be entrusted to the dead?
Hilda Doolittle
Until it seems the whole city will be covered with gold pollen shaken from the bell-towers, lilies plundered with the weight of massive bees . . .
Hilda Doolittle
Love has no charm when Love is swept to earth: you'd make a lop-winged god, frozen and contrite, of god up-darting, winged for passionate flight.
Hilda Doolittle