Eurydikar

Hilda Doolittles Eurydike:    
                

VII

At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;

and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break Before I am lost;

before I am lost
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.