#MIDDLEBURY
Mid-Day
H.D.
The light beats upon me.
I am startled –
a split leaf crackles on the paved floor –
I am anguished – defeated.
A slight wind shakes the seed-pods –
my thoughts are spent
as the black seeds.
My thoughts tear me,
I dread their fever.
I am scattered in its whirl.
I am scattered like
the hot shrivelled seeds.
The shrivelled seeds
are spilt on the path –
the grass bends with dust,
the grape slips
under its crackled leaf:
yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,
and the blackened stalks of mint,
the poplar is bright on the hill,
the poplar spreads out,
deep-rooted among trees.
O poplar, you are great
among the hill-stones,
while I perish on the path
among the crevices of the rocks.
About this poem
“Mid-Day” was published in “Sea Garden” (Constable and Company Ltd., 1916).
About Hilda Doolittle
Hilda Doolittle was born on Sept. 10, 1886, in Bethlehem, Penn. A member of the imagist movement, her collections include “Sea Garden” (Houghton Mifflin, 1916) and “Helen in Egypt” (Grove Press, 1961). She died on Sept. 27, 1961.
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day@poets.org.
This poem is in the public domain. Originally published in Poem-a-Day, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate.
