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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Evadne</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I first tasted under Apollo's lips,<br>love and love sweetness,<br>I, Evadne;<br>my hair is made of crisp violets<br>or hyacinth which the wind combs back<br>across some rock shelf;<br>I, Evadne,<br>was made of the god of light.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">His hair was crisp to my mouth,<br>as the flower of the crocus,<br>across my cheek,<br>cool as the silver-cress<br>on Erotos bank;<br>between my chin and throat,<br>his mouth slipped over and over.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Still between my arm and shoulder,<br>I feel the brush of his hair,<br>and my hands keep the gold they took,<br>as they wandered over and over,<br>that great arm-full of yellow flowers.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Hilda+Doolittle">Hilda Doolittle</a></strong></div>

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