Explore "Hyacinth" by Hilda Doolittle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
1. Your anger charms me, / and yet all the time / I think of chaste, slight hands, / veined snow; / snow craters filled / with first wild-flowerlets; / glow of ice-gentian, / whitest violet; / snow craters / and the ice ridge / spilling light; / dawn and the lover / chaste dawn leaves bereft -- / I think of these / and snow-cooled Phrygian wine.
Your anger charms me subtly / and I know / that you would take / the still hands / where I'd rest; / you would despoil / for very joy of theft; / list, lady, / I would give you one last hint: / quench your red mouth / in some cold forest lake, / cover your russet locks / with arum leaf, / quench out the colour, / still the fevered glance, / cover your want, / your fire insatiate, / I can not match your fervour, / nay, nor still my ache / with any / but white hands inviolate.