Hilda (Doolittle) Aldington
haunting the groves,
who dwell in wet caves,
for all the white leaves of olive-branch,
and early roses,
and ivy wreaths, woven gold berries,
which she once brought to your altars,
bear now ripe fruits from Arcadia,
and Assyrian wine
to shatter her fever.
The light of her face falls from its flower,
as a hyacinth,
hidden in a far valley,
perishes upon burnt grass.
bring your Phoenician stuffs,
and do you, fleet-footed nymphs,
and a branch of shrub,
and frail-headed poppies.