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Poem by Hilda Doolittle
Most holy Satyr, like a goat, with horns and hooves to match thy coat of russet brown, I make leaf-circlets and a crown of honey-flowers for thy throat; where the amber petals drip to ivory, I cut and slip each stiffened petal in the rift of carven petal; honey horn has wed the bright virgin petal of the white flower cluster: lip to lip let them whisper, let them lilt, quivering. Most holy Satyr, like a goat, hear this our song, accept our leaves, love-offering, return our hymn, like echo fling a sweet song, answering note for note.
Hilda Doolittle's other poems:
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