Featuring H.D.

H.D. was closely knit with Pound, and both shared similar interests and writing styles. I am glad that I read Pound before H.D. because Pound established the imagist movement, and then others began writing with the same writing style as well. I greatly enjoyed reading H.D.’s poetry. H.D. writes smoothly and provides beautiful imagery throughout her poetry.  My favorite aspect about H.D. is her simplistic form and language. She does exactly what Pound was talking about when using imagery in a poem, does not explain what she is describing, but gives words that supply that image.

My favorite poem by H.D. is “Mid-Day.” H.D. writes:

The light beats upon me.

I am startled—

A split leaf crackles on the paved floor—

I am anguished and 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 shriveled seeds.

The shriveled seeds

Are split 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.

For me it seems that the speaker of the poem is bearing the weight of being vulnerable or exposed. The first two lines make me think of a person being pushed into the spotlight against their will: “The light beats upon me. I am startled—“ Then the speaker moves on to mention he/she is “anguished and defeated.” Throughout the poem, H.D. uses the symbols of “split leafs crackling” and “hot shriveled black seeds.” These symbols made me think of something or someone barely hanging on and lifeless. In the second stanza, the speaker says, “my thoughts are spent/as the black seeds./ My thoughts tear me,/I dread their fever.” By the language of “my thoughts are spent,” it seems as if the speaker has been exhausted or has revealed too much. The speaker compares him/herself to the scattered “hot shriveled seeds.” Usually seeds are scattered and produce something full of life and healthy, but these seeds being “black” and “hot” and “shriveled” make me think they have lost their ability to produce life. The third and fourth stanzas are mildly different than the first two. The shriveled seeds and crackled leaves still show up,

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.

By using the conjunction “yet,” the speaker speaks of a contrasting image of the poplar tree. Unlike the “blackened stalks of mint,” “hot shriveled seeds,” and “crackled leaves,” the poplar tree is “bright,” “deeply rooted,” and “great among the hill-stones.” The symbol of the poplar tree seems like a glimmer of hope and life, but the poem does not end hopeful or with life. Surprisingly, the poem ends with the speaker “perishing on the path/among the crevices of the rocks.” This poem, even though one of my favorites, did not end how I expected it to. The poem builds up to the end with the grandness of the poplar tree, and then the suddenness of death quickly ends the poems. Why did the speaker perish? The poplar tree was full of life and growth, unlike the scattered seeds the speaker spoke about before, yet the speaker was still in anguish and defeat. Whomever the speaker is, it was almost as if they drowned among those rocks on the hill. This poem greatly reminded me of Pound and Frost in a way. The end of the poem did not provide clarity for me, but left me more in the dark and confused. H.D. writes with a beautiful flow of language, much like the “musical flow” Pound says all good poetry has. I greatly enjoyed reading her poetry, and the artistic feel of her poems as well.

            H.D.’s poetry reminded me of Mary Oliver. She writes with similar nature themes about the ocean and the earth. Her poem “Breakage” is full of imagery, slight alliterations, and is written in free verse. The speaker of the poem goes to the sea and sees different pieces or attributes of the ocean. The speaker sees:

The cusp of whelk,

The broken cupboard of the clam,

The opened blue mussels,

Moon snails, pale pink, and barnacle scarred—

And nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered and split,

Dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.

The reader can see the different elements of the see Oliver describes in her poem. In my opinion this poem goes in waves. H.D.’s poem began with something dark and desperate, gave a glimmer of hope, and ended with death. Oliver’s poem begins with “morning light,” peaceful descriptors of the elements of the ocean, and then turns into this picture of everything being torn and nothing whole. Oliver’s poem ends peacefully with a comparison to a schoolhouse where it is made of

little words,

thousands of words.

First you figure out what each one means by itself,

the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop

full of moonlight.

Then you being, slowly, to read the whole story.

Oliver’s poem gives the reader a holistic picture at the end, rather than something tattered and left undone. I enjoyed Oliver’s comparison of the sea to a schoolhouse. Both Oliver and H.D. have similar themes, but there is something very distinct about each one. H.D.’s poem seems more refined in the way she uses imagery, but Oliver’s imagery is beautiful as well, just shown in a different style than H.D.