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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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Hilda Doolittle
Honey
Mouth
Mouths
Sweet
Second
Best
Nothing
Eros
Love
Spit

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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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Dance until the earth dance.
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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
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The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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Let Love step down, open the clasped hands, forfeit the thorny crown, retrieve the garment that was whole, body and spirit one, spirit and soul.
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The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
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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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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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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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I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
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Take what the old-church found in Mithra's tomb, candle and script and bell, take what the new-church spat upon and broke and shattered.
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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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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
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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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You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
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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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