Read EVADNE of Hymen , free online book, by Hilda Doolittle, on

I first tasted under Apollo’s lips love and love sweetness, I Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs back across some rock shelf; I Evadne was mate of the god of light.

His hair was crisp to my mouth as the flower of the crocus, across my cheek, cool as the silver cress on Erotos bank; between my chin and throat his mouth slipped over and over.

Still between my arm and shoulder, I feel the brush of his hair, and my hands keep the gold they took as they wandered over and over that great arm-full of yellow flowers.