Archives for Hilda Doolittle

A poem to read in the bath… ‘Sometimes and After’

I am making a point of reading poets I am unfamiliar with, and wanted to share this poem by American poet Hilda Doolittle. ‘Sometimes and After’ Yet sometimes I would sweep the floor, I would put daises in a tumbler, I would have long dreams before, long day-dreams after;   there would be no gauntleted knock on the door, or tap-tap with a riding crop, no galloping here and back;   but the latch would softly lift, would softly fall, dusk would come slowly,   and even dusk could wait till night encompassed us; dawn would come gracious, not too soon,   day would come late, and the next day and the next, while I found pansies to take the place of daisies,   and a spray of apple-blossom after that, no calendar of fevered hours, Carthago delenda est and the Tyrian night. Doolitte died in 1961. I love the transitory passing of time in this poem. And no, I didn’t understand the last line. Google Translate tells me ‘Carthago delenda est’ means ‘Carthage is destroyed’ in Latin, which I didn’t study at school. ‘Tyrian night’ still mystifies me, can anyone else help? For more about Hilda Doolittle at the
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Categories: Book Love and Poetry.