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Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Banish
Luminous
Shall
High
Religion
Evil
Fervour
Priestesses

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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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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.
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Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
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When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
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Could beauty be beaten out, O youth the cities have sent to strike at each other's strength, it is you who have kept her alight.
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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.
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For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
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She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils.
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
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We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
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The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
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For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
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Lift up our eyes to you? no, God, we stare and stare, upon a nearer thing that greets us here, Death, violent and near.
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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle