Hermetic Definition

by H.D., Norman Holmes Pearson (Foreword)

This late collection, written in the last years of H.D.'s life, is a testament to the fine ear and mythic sense of a poet who is now recognized as one of the greatest of her generation. H. D.’s (Hilda Doolittle, 1884-1961) late poems of search and longing represent the mature achievement of a poet who has come increasingly to be recognized as one of the most important of her generation. The title poem and other long pieces in this collection ("Sagesse" and "Winter Love") were written between 1957 and her death four years later, and are heretofore unpublished, except in fragments. We can see now in proper context her fine ear for the free line, and understand why other poets, such as Denise Levertov, Robert Creeley, and Robert Duncan, find so much to admire in H. D.’s work. As in her earlier books, one level of H.D.’s significant poetic statement derives from her intimate knowledge of and identification with classical Greek and arcane cultures; taken together, these elements make up the poet’s own personal myth. Norman Holmes Pearson, H. D’s friend and literary executor, has contributed an illuminating foreword to this impressive collection. H. D.’s (Hilda Doolittle, 1884-1961) late poems of search and longing represent the mature achievement of a poet who has come increasingly to be recognized as one of the most important of her generation. The title poem and other long pieces in this collection ("Sagesse" and "Winter Love") were written between 1957 and her death four years later, and are heretofore unpublished, except in fragments. We can see now in proper context her fine ear for the free line, and understand why other poets, such as Denise Levertov, Robert Creeley, and Robert Duncan, find so much to admire in H. D.’s work. As in her earlier books, one level of H.D.’s significant poetic statement derives from her intimate knowledge of and identification with classical Greek and arcane cultures; taken together, these elements make up the poet’s own personal myth. Norman Holmes Pearson, H. D’s friend and literary executor, has contributed an illuminating foreword to this impressive collection.

Genres: Poetry, American, 20th Century, The United States Of America

120 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1972

About the author

An innovative modernist American writer, Hilda Doolittle (1886–1961) wrote under her initials in a career that stretched from 1909 to 1961. H.D., most well known for her lyric and epic poetry, also wrote novels, memoirs, short stories, essays, reviews, a children’s book, and translations. An American woman who lived her adult life abroad, H.D. was engaged in the formalist experimentation that preoccupied much of her generation. A range of thematic concerns resonates through her writing: the role of the poet, the civilian representation of war, material and mythologized ancient cultures, the role of national and colonial identity, lesbian and queer sexuality, and religion and spirituality.

Reviews

[Dionysius the Areopagite · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, this is quite something. The theological seminary/library where I'm polishing up a couple of forthcoming texts is walking distance from H.D.'s grave. This morning I stood for a moment waiting for a sneeze which did not come, much to my chagrin, en route to my desk. In preparing for the sneeze I tilted my head in a way that brought me to a row of H.D. texts. I'm keeping this one and Trilogy by my desk for when I take my breaks and feel neither like walking anywhere/seeing anyone. I take a break and light the little midnight lamp and read some lines at random. Perhaps when all of these books are ready to go by summer, instead taking a year off from(m) writing a single sentence I'll just sit in a log cabin and write sonnets, free verse, haiku, until it gets old, or I get old, or something pivotal takes place. Time will decide. That must be the strength of righteousness. Micaiah does not argue.

[Mattea Gernentz · Rating 5 out of 5]

January 2023:

Reread this wonder on the train to St Andrews as the morning light glittered over the sea. I could hardly look away (but poetry beckoned). I think I am going to make it a January tradition to reread this every year before my birthday. H.D. is pure magic, and I love the feeling of vastness that dwarfs me as the reader. I feel incredibly small but never insignificant. This collection always speaks to the heart.

"Is remembrance chiefly a matter / of twig, leaf, grass, stone? / that is as far as I see... / personal patroness; / I scrape a small pine-cone / from the sparse sea-grass / ...before everything was over, / and before I realized an intimacy / near as the air" (29).

January 2022:

"Winter Love" is so achingly beautiful that I had to read it twice (and will most certainly return again). The life of H.D. was incredibly vibrant, and her oeuvre reflects her characteristic acuity and intensity. Among other things, I remain indebted to Hilda for reimagining the mythological as foremost feminine, and I often depart from her poetry feeling as if I have experienced so much but know next to nothing. Yet how stunning that feeling is—it underscores H.D.'s stance on the power of poetry. She repeatedly links the act of writing with illumination ("what has the word done? / you include but in small grandeur, / the whole circle of the sun") as well as conception and speaks of its urgent necessity in The Walls Do Not Fall. When encountering her universe of phrases, a reader can only be irrevocably dazzled and free. There are states of being more important than comprehension. So, I love H.D. a lot. I rushed to the Scottish Poetry Library 10 minutes before they closed and burst through the door, asking specifically for this book because I was so eager to read it. Her words continue to find me at the right time.

"there is something left over,
the first unsatisfied desire -
the first time, that first kiss,

the rough stones of a wall,
the fragrance of honey-flowers, the bees,
and how I would have fallen but for a voice,

calling through the brambles
and tangle of bay-berry
and rough broom,

Helen, Helen, come home;
there was a Helen before there was a War,
but who remembers her?" (90-91).

[Lee Foust · Rating 4 out of 5]

As I said in one of my updates while reading this one, it's a bit like watching a great athlete playing past their prime; although their strength and accuracy isn't totally what it used to be, their skill and grace as a master of their sport is still overwhelmingly beautiful to watch, if perhaps tinged with just a bit of pathos seeing as they're no longer the perfect practitioner that they once were. All of the techniques and beauties of poetic composition that make H.D. one of my favorite poets are here, but the three poem-cycles in this late collection seem to have more humble things to say than perhaps their extension into longer cycles wholly warranted. Thus the unabashed pleasure of reading H.D. was there, but I also sometimes wished there was something more, something deeper, more profound to be gleaned from them. Maybe it's just me, my present distraction with my new city and job, or just the impressions of the first read of texts that demand more reading in order to really appreciate their complexities and beauties. I will surely pick this up again later. It probably deserves much better than these fleeting first impressions.

[June García · Rating 4 out of 5]

Había entrado al mundo de HD por poemas sueltos de internet y cuando pillé esta versión de Overol la quise inmediatamente, con lo difícil que es pillar libros de ella en Chile. La traducción me pareció increíble, con todos los pies de páginas necesarios para entenderla aún mejor. De todas maneras, no es un libro simple como para adentrarse en su poesía, muy bella, críptica, culta. Son varios viajes los que componen este libro, viajes para abordar con paciencia y para retornar pasado un tiempo (siento yo).
"Cada hueso duele con el frío
pero estoy contenta de venir,
contenta de venir aquí contigo;"

[Eliana]

Okay, wow. First of all, there are lines I love, but mostly there are lines that lock me out of themselves. The first two major poems (I think that’s how they’re broken up?) escaped me, especially “Sagesse.” Like Hope Mirrless’s Paris, the lines just happened, and most, if not all, references were beyond my recognition. The disjointed phrasing was not something I could enjoy, though my fragile heart rattled at the snatches of narrative regarding a letter—and waiting and time for grief, for making.

Then we arrived at “Winter Love,” which Mattea has wanted me to read ever since she came across the segment herself. The pacing and language were akin to Alice Oswald, whose work on mythology is among the few I favor, but reading this section aloud in one sitting while a cicada screamed outside and a dog barked in staccato in the stairwell? Pretty good vibe for the end of August. Page 91 in this copy? Got me gasping for air. Anyway. This last long poem was more narrative-driven, which helped me better grasp the ideas and details. I loved what H.D. did with her sonics here. I mean, really. “. . . dissonance . . . hiss of Death” and “besieged with memories / like low-swarming bees.” C’mon.

And since Goodreads is a great place for subliminal messaging, I’ll leave these quoted lines here:

“. . . and the moment
of fulfillment was broken by a voice,
Helen come home, and I went back;

I expected to know more, expected completion,
but they said, ‘he has gone,
he was only waiting for his Ship.”
(99)

[Pablo López Astudillo · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cuándo no sabes qué pero es, ahí late lo que reconozco como poesía.
Este libro es indescifrable

[Sonnydee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Damn, H.D. could sure write a poem. Winter Love is my favourite.

[Gerardo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Volveré a leer este libro dentro de un par de años para saber si entendí algo.

[Shannon Saulsbury · Rating 4 out of 5]

hilda is a bit hard to keep up with if you aren't a trilingualist classicist but I take that as a direct challenge.

[Su · Rating 4 out of 5]

La autora es una genia, no es un libro fácil de leer, tiene muchas metáforas y simbolismos. Algunos poemas tienen más sentido en inglés.
[gracias miss Valentina, la amo]

[Missnöjd Konfirmand]

Det blir okänt antal stjärnor på denna, jag vet inte hur man betygsätter lyrik.

Den första dikten är fantastisk, och det finns en massa fina strofer, men man ska nog vara inläst på mytologi och mysticism för att verkligen uppskatta H.D.

[Elise Karlsson]

"Helena, Helena, kom hem;
det fanns en Helena innan det fanns ett Krig,
men vem minns henne?"

[Camila Lira Olivares · Rating 4 out of 5]

Creo que este es de los libros más difíciles de explicar. La primera mitad se me hizo muy cuesta arriba por la enorme cantidad de versos en francés, además de todos los nombres que refieren a seres místicos y religiosos. Una poesía muy oscura que no quiere dejarnos entrar fácilmente. Pero el último cuarto del libro que provocó una fascinación que pocas veces alcanzo. Las referencias se volvieron a la cultura helénica, por lo que es mucho más familiar, y se fue volviendo un poco más claro el fondo de todo: la poeta como vasija o canal de una voz ancestral, que se apodera del cuerpo y la mente para transmitir una sabiduría oculta.
Un saber antiguo que llega a nosotras por medio de versos dolorosos, un suplicio que martiriza, un dictado doloroso.

[Palo · Rating 4 out of 5]

está claro que no es para todes, pero funciona perfecto para mi. especialmente porque “amor de invierno”, la última parte, lo vale todo.

[Angela · Rating 5 out of 5]

Obsessed.

[Francisca · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ok... para ser sincera no le tenia mucha fe ni expectativas a este poemario, casi lo compre de codiciosa porque lo vi baratísimo en buscalibre. YAAA Y NO SÉ CÓMOOOOO HE VIVIDO TODO ESTE TIEMPO SIN HABER CONOCIDO A HILDA DOOLITTLE, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Si bien la poesía de H.D. es el tipo de poesía que alomejor al principio te hace sentir un poco estúpida porque no entiendes ni la mitad o no sabes que caaaraaaaaaajo estas leyendo(o al menos así me sentí yo como lectora-novata-de-poesía) es MARAVILLOSAAA.
Otra cosa a mencionar es que este tipo de poesía aparte de dejaaarte maaaaaaal cuando la llegas a entender, te hace volver constantemente tipo yo doblando mi ropa y de la nada PAAAF AHI YO RE-LEYENDO SUS VERSOS.
Si Emily Dickinson en su momento la catalogué como mi primer amor, Hilda Doolittle representa con quien uno quiere casarse y echar raíces, así tal cual.

*Quizá como dato estaría bueno revisar la biografía de esta tremenda mujer y repasar un poquitín de mitología.

HILDA DOOLITTLE TE AMO Y NO TE DOY MÁS ESTRELLAS PORQUE ESTA PAGINA QLA NO ME DEJA NO MÁS.

[Patricia N. McLaughlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

In 1912, H. D., Richard Aldington, and Ezra Pound invented Imagism and defined its three principles as follows: 1) direct treatment of the “thing” whether subjective or objective; 2) use of absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation; and 3) rhythm composed in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of a metronome. In this collection, H. D.’s elliptical references to the “thing” are antithetical to the “direct treatment” prescribed by the first principle, and the use of eclectic classical allusions as mere adornment repeatedly violates the second principle of Imagism—much like the profusion of allusions and classical references in many of Pound’s Cantos. These poems seem truer to the Greeks than the denizens of her own age.

[Terry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Once again I find mysel reviewing a volume other than those in the Good Reads library. This volume, in gray paper covers with just a paper label glued to its spine reading “Hermetic Definitions” and “H D”, includes only the three parts of the poem itself titled “Hermetic Defintions”. The volume contains no colophon whatsoever but on the title page, at the bottom, 1971. In its entirety, the volume encompasses 72 pages.
The poem demands a close reading with dictionaries and an encyclopedia (or access to the Internet) close at hand.

[Emilia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Después de leer a Idea Vilariño quedé con ganas de adentrarme más en la poesía y tenía ganas de seguir con HD. Me pasó que se me hizo bien pesado al principio e intenté sacarme esta necesidad de entenderlo todo y solo ~fluir~ Encontré versos hermosos y me quedo con muchas ganas de seguir leyendo a esta autora.

[Gabriela Soto · Rating 4 out of 5]

Perfecto para leer en una tarde de lluvia con un café al lado.
Si bien resultaría difícil de leer y comprender para alguien que está partiendo con la poesía, el trabajo realizado con personajes de la literatura clásica, temas como la sercania a la muerte y la búsqueda de la femineidad lo vuelven un imperdible. Si lo tuyo es la poesía tienes que leer este libro.

[Samira Abed · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best books ever written. It's a crime people haven't given this 5 stars. Greek myth actually interesting, not just the stories, the actual feeling of mush. "Peace, Salt, you were never all that". Wow the devastation of these lines is so crazy.

[João · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am delirious now and meant to be,
the whole earth shudders with my ecstasy,
take Espérance away;

[Gaspar Alvarez · Rating 4 out of 5]

Se agradecería un prologo, quizás, o lectura complementaria (para descifrar la lectura alquímica).
Pero,

Espérance, O golden bee
take life afresh and if you must,
so slay me.
3

[Joaco · Rating 5 out of 5]

Solo por Winter Love le doy 9 estrellas.
No pude disfrutar mucho lo demás así que queda pa la relectura.

[Ari · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked Red Rose best.
H.D is very good here, as always, but I prefer her other works. . .

[Cody Stetzel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not bad but not immensely memorable to me.

[Abigail · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh mysterious rose and lists of angels...I guess I need a companion to H. D. to understand this. Winter Love is beautiful. All Helen poems are.

[Victoria Boudeweel Piscador · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5⭐️)

[Josep Duran · Rating 5 out of 5]

Acabat el darrer llibre de l'estiu, "Hermètica definició", de Hilda Doolittle, en meravellosa traducció de @odiletercera a @lleonard_muntaner_editor.
Com diu la mateixa Odile "un camí tan intrincat com magnètic", "uns versos tan pròxims com enigmàtics".
Els mites grecs, la tradició egípcia o l'esotèrica fins al propi E. Pound hi són presents. Un llibre realment hermètic que es gaudeix, desperta curiositats i mereix més d'una relectura.

[Salomé · Rating 4 out of 5]

C'était cryptique et j'ai adoré !

"et vos mots sont en effet ésotériques
et suffisamment difficiles parfois,
mais épuisée par la tornade,

la tempête de l'étendue de votre poème,
je suis d'autant plus frappée
quand comme un don proféré,

vous accordez un moment l'espace d'un souffle,
'cette grâce, par instants'
et un 'dahlia blanc', cette chouette des neiges"