Explore "Flute Song" by Hilda Doolittle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Little scavenger away, / touch not the door, / beat not the portal down, / cross not the sill, / silent until / my song, bright and shrill, / breathes out its lay.
Little scavenger avaunt, / tempt me with jeer and taunt, / yet you will wait to-day; / for it were surely ill / to mock and shout and revel; / it were more fit to tell / with flutes and calathes, / your mother's praise.