Mid-Day

The light beats upon me.

I am startled—

a split leaf crackles on the paved floor—

I am anguished—defeated.

5

A slight wind shakes the seed-pods—

my thoughts are spent

as the black seeds.

My thoughts tear me,

I dread their fever.

10

I am scattered in its whirl.

I am scattered like

the hot shrivelled seeds.

The shriveled seeds

are split on the path—

15

the grass bends with dust,

the grape slips

under its cracked leaf:

yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,

and the blackened stalks of mint,

20

the poplar is bright on the hill,

the poplar spreads out,

deep-rooted among trees.

O poplar, you are great

among the hill-stones,

25

while I perish on the path

among the crevices of the rocks.

—
H. D.

Sea Garden, 1916