Late Spring (by H.D.)

H.D. in the 1910s
Late Spring
by Hilda Doolittle
[first published in Little Review 2 (Jan./Feb. 1916)]
We can not weather all this gold
Nor stand under the gold from elm-trees
And the re-coated sallows.
We can not hold our heads erect
Under this golden dust.
We can not stand
Where enclosures for the fruit
Drop hot—radiant—slight petals
From each branch.
We can not see:
The dog-wood breaks—white—
The pear-tree has caught—
The apple is a red blaze—
The peach has already withered its own leaves—
The wild plum-tree is alight.
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It is always a pleasure to read a poem by H.D.
Her lines have a wonderful clarity and modesty but also courage to them.
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I agree!
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