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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.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Youth
Strength
Alight
Cities
Idealism
Beauty
Strike
Beaten
Sent
Strikes
Kept

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
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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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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 . . .
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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
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In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies in my garden, the salt has wilted the first flakes of young narcissus.
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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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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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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But beauty is set apart, beauty is cast by the sea, a barren rock, beauty is set about with wrecks of ships.
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Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.
Hilda Doolittle
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle
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No poetic phantasy but a biological reality, a fact: I am an entity like bird, insect, plant or sea-plant cell I live I am alive.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
Hilda Doolittle
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The whole white world is ours.
Hilda Doolittle
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When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
Hilda Doolittle