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 shriveled seeds
are split on the path--
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,
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.

Poet: H. D.
Poem: Mid-Day
Poem of the Day: Jul 19 2009

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Mid-Day, has received 29 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.