Introduction
In recent literary scholarship, one sees a renewed interest in H.D.’s Helen in Egypt, particularly its daring feminist reading of history. This book-length poem is undoubtedly revolutionary in its critique of masculine readings of history, which often assume a linear progression from one event to the next. First published in 1961, Helen in Egypt recounts an alternative version of the myth of Helen of Troy, in which Helen does not remain in Troy, but rather, is conveyed by the gods to Egypt. The story, derived from the writings of Euripides and Stesichorus of Sicily, provides a necessary framework as H.D. situates twentieth century culture in relation to another historical milieu.[1] Indeed, this transhistorical comparison allows H.D. to see history as recursive, and to observe the shared myths, archetypes, and narratives that recur across past and present.
While Doolittle’s feminist critique is often celebrated, few critics have explored the role of her translation work in shaping her vision of history. H.D. began her translation work as part of Richard Aldington’s Poet’s Translation Series in 1915, translating choruses from Iphigeneia in Aulis.[2] She continued working with classical texts over the course of her career, eventually translating two of Euripides’ plays, Hippolytus Temporizes and Ion in 1927 and 1937, respectively.[3] For H.D., translation opened up new possibilities for conceptualizing history. Indeed, she did not envision translation as a literal transfer of meaning from language to another, but rather, as a space for dialogue between two historical moments. Thus the task of translation, for H.D., frequently blurred into more interpretive work. She remained especially interested in the juxtaposition of ancient and modern, and the ways that translation allows contemporary language to echo against ancient narratives, cultures, and worldviews. The task of the translator, then, was to observe continuities between past and present, to uncover the shared myths, archetypes, and narratives that drive history. For H.D., translation afforded a point of entry to a collective consciousness, which she saw as unfolding across cultures and historical periods.
This essay will explore the role of a single translation, that of Ion, in shaping H.D.’s thinking about history in her later work, Helen in Egypt. I believe that H.D.’s translation work opened up a new way of thinking about history, which proved necessary for the composition of Helen in Egypt. I will argue that translation, by allowing H.D. to think across historical periods and cultures, provided a point of entry to collective consciousness, and this approach is later adapted to suit the more activist material of Helen in Egypt.
H.D.’s Inheritance: Experimental Translation Practices and the Modernist Aesthetic
H.D. worked within in a literary tradition that remained hospitable to, if not fascinated by, experimental translation practices. Many of her contemporaries, particularly Ezra Pound, Walter Benjamin, and Louis Zukofsky, began questioning the prevailing definition of translation as a transfer of literal meaning from one language to the next. In “The Task of the Translator,” for example, Benjamin writes that “Translation…ultimately serves the purpose of expressing the reciprocal relationship between languages.”[4] The work of the translator, for Benjamin, was often interpretive. He or she charts what is common across languages, as well as the historically situated worldviews that are enacted through language. Benjamin’s essay represents an emergent consciousness among Modernist writers that translation can serve as a space for critical thinking, rather than the uncritical transcription of historical documents.
With that said, Ezra Pound was among the first writers of this generation to question the prevailing idea that translation deals explicitly with semantic meaning. In Translation and the Languages of Modernism, Stephen Yao writes that Pound’s poem sequence, Cathay, “successfully reformulated the terms of translation practice in English to emphasize poetic creation and expressivity over linguistically grounded semantic conversion.”[5] As Yao notes in the same passage, generations before Pound’s had valued technical mastery of a given language as the most crucial prerequisite for translation work. Pound, however, often worked with little knowledge of the language of the original text. Bruce Nadel describes Pound’s translation practice as “heuristic,” directing the reader’s attention to carefully chosen motifs and images within the original, while allowing other to recede into the background.[6] Pound’s translation work served as a starting point for a dialogue among Modernist writers, who began to see the interpretive possibilities inherent in translation practices. Indeed, H.D. began her translation work under the auspices of Pound’s instruction, remaining in close contact with him throughout her work on the plays of Euripdies.[7]
With that said, Louis Zukofsky’s Catullus is often read as one of the culminations of this conversation between Modernist poets. As in H.D.’s later work, Zukofsky envisioned translation as an indeterminate space. A translated text cannot be classified as ancient or modern, but rather, the reader observes a cross-pollination between languages. In his Catullus translations especially, Zukofsky suggests the porous boundaries of all languages, and the impossibility of a purely Latin or English text. Rosemarie Waldrop writes of Zukofsky’s project in Lavish Absence: “I think of the method less as a window into a foreign text than as a way of expanding the possibilities of poetic speech in English.”[8] Indeed, Zukofsky’s translation practice suggested the myriad ways in which other languages can illuminate and complicate poetic endeavors in English.
Read within the context of this conversation among Modernist writers, H.D.’s work remains unique in that her thinking about translation moves beyond the mere imagery and sonic qualities of a given poem. Rather, H.D. envisions the text as a window into another historical milieu. For H.D., the values of a particular historical moment are embodied by and enacted in its language. It is the task of translation that allows ancient culture to resonate against contemporary life, ultimately revealing the shared myths, beliefs, and narratives that recur throughout history.
Ion of Euripides: H.D.’s Translation as an Interpretive Space
H.D. began translating Ion of Euripides in the 1930s, a time that may be described as the culmination of Modernist translation practices. While David Lan describes the play as a “family romance,” in which “mother and son are reunited,” the play may also plausibly be read as a commentary on political life.[9] As mentioned before, H.D.’s translation is marked by its presentation of language as historically situated. This recurring theme in her work is embodied most visibly in the play’s stage directions. Throughout Ion of Euripides, stage directions serve an interpretive space, in which H.D. engages in transhistorical comparisons, noting the themes and motifs that recur throughout ancient history, modern life, and the time elapsed between the two. The juxtapositions inherent in translation work allowed her to see greater unity among disparate historical moments.
Consider this passage,
At Delphi, the enormous stars are still shining. Our prologue stands with his back to the great pillars of the famous temple. The tiers of steps, behind him, seem to mount to infinity. The eyes of the fleet-foot legate of God face us, they face the mountains, above which, a faint glow announces the coming of day.
Yet still, the great stars burn in darkness, and still, we ask ourselves what can this all signify…[10]
Through her use of the word “still” as a refrain, H.D. suggests that numerous parallels exist between political life in ancient Greece and twentieth century America. Not only the “stars burning in the darkness,” but the seeming powerlessness in the face of political decisions unite these two disparate historical moments. Indeed, the play itself describes “gods plans” and “wishes” in choosing a ruler.[11] The prologue ultimately foregrounds the relevance that this description of disenfranchisement retains for contemporary culture.
As the play continues, stage directions continue to offer a space for transhistorical analysis, allowing H.D. to underscore the lack of change in political structures since Euripides’ play was written. She writes later in the play,
Curious words, these. How can we believe that 500 B.C. and A.D. 500 (or our own problematic present) are separated by an insurmountable chasm? The schism before Christ, after Christ, vanishes. The new modernity can not parody the wisdom of all-time, with its before and after. The poet Euripides, one of that glorious trio of Athens’ great dramatic period—the world’s greatest—predicts the figure of the new world-woman; tenderness and gallantry merge…[12]
H.D. suggests that history places limitations on the ways contemporary subjects are able to conceive of personal, or even national, identity. Although one may not be conscious of these influences, they remain embedded in contemporary language and culture. Indeed, Victoria Pedrick reads H.D.’s “parallel investigation” as being primarily concerned with the ways in which the past places limits on contemporary thinking about identity. She describes history as “determining” selfhood, suggesting the powerlessness of the individual over history.[13] While Pedrick’s reading may be a bit overly deterministic, she aptly points out the role of history in shaping contemporary language, and in turn, contemporary thought.
With that in mind, H.D.’s translation remains revolutionary as it uses the juxtapositions inherent in translation work as a point of entry to transhistorical analysis. Indeed, translation becomes a space for asking questions about the nature of language, consciousness, and the self. Throughout Ion of Euripides, the task of translation allows H.D. to observe the vestiges of history that shape contemporary thinking. Indeed, translation allows both writer and reader to see consciousness as historically situated, and, in many ways, made possible by shared culture. For H.D., this realization allows both one to gain agency over history, ultimately gaining power over the cultural narratives that one has inherited from past generations.
Ion as an Entry to Collective Consciousness: Psychoanalysis in Translation
H.D. engaged in her two most substantial translation tasks after undergoing psychoanalysis with Sigmund Freud in late 1920s. Indeed, Freudian thought remains foundational for her thinking about language as historically situated. During her time as a pupil of Freud, H.D. read The Interpretation of Dreams, a text that proved a formative influence for her thinking about history. Susan Stanford Friedman writes, for instance, “H.D. learned from Freud to do what he did for himself in the inaugural text of psychoanalysis, The Interpretation of Dreams—namely, to use the scene of writing as a site for unraveling the tangled skeins of consciousness in relation to myth, history, and personal memory.”[14] Friedman adeptly underscores the close connection between personal memory and larger historical movements in psychoanalytic thought. For H.D., individual consciousness arises out of shared histories, narratives, and myths. The site of writing, particularly translation, afforded an opportunity to gain greater agency over these collective beliefs, to become more conscious of their role in the formation of the individual self.
Perhaps more importantly, psychoanalysis allows H.D. to conceive of history in a literary manner, namely by positing history as a text to be interpreted. This conceptual framework allowed H.D. to see history as recursive. Like a literary text, history does not progress from one event to the next in a linear fashion, but rather, one observes symbols and motifs recurring across temporal boundaries. In The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud describes the symbols that we see in culture as a “sublimation” or a “fusing” of complex ideas into a single image.[15] It is the task of the analyst to unravel the significances held within these symbols, and to articulate the numerous possible subjective interpretations that arise from them.
In many ways, H.D. envisions the psychoanalytic process being mirrored in translation, with the translator inhabiting the role of analyst. For H.D., the object of this analysis is not the individual psyche, but rather, collective consciousness becomes a text to be interpreted within a psychoanalytic framework. The task of translation affords a point of entry to collection consciousness through the juxtapositions it creates. For H.D., these echoes of one culture, one historical moment, and one language against another begin to break down temporal boundaries. Indeed, these juxtapositions allow the analyst to see motifs and images recurring, ultimately affording the possibility of gaining agency through interpretation.
Consider the following passage from H.D.’s translation of Ion,
Today? Yesterday? Greek time is like all Greek miracles. Years gain no permanence nor impermanence by a line of curious numbers; numerically 1920, 1922 and again (each time, spring) 1932, we touched the stem of a frail sapling, an olive tree, growing against the egg-shell marble walls of the Erechtheum.[16]
Here H.D. presents translation as a collapse of temporal boundaries. It is not “1920,” “1922,” or “spring,” or “1932,” but rather, these disparate historical moments must be understood in their relation to one another. Shared images, narratives, and myths appear and recede, only to surface again in a different context. Here the image of the “olive tree,” while originating in Greek culture, is re-inscribed with the post-war trauma that remained integral to H.D.’s poetics during this period. The translator, in this passage and more generally, articulates the connection between these two textual elements. The reader, too, is prompted to participate in this work, forging connections between the text of shared history and his or her own conscious experience.
The Poet as Translator: From Ion to Helen in Egypt
H.D. published Helen in Egypt in 1961, twenty four years after her work as translator of Ion of Euripides. During the time that elapsed between the two works, H.D. increasingly sought to blend Freudian thought with other philosophical writings that called for social justice. Indeed, Susan Edmunds writes that she attempted to “synthesize and jointly transform” the conceptual frameworks inherent in both “Freudian psychoanalysis” and “Marxist aesthetic theory.”[17] Indeed, as H.D. commenced work on Helen in Egypt, Freud’s writings became a means of understanding and rectifying the social inequalities that recur throughout history. As in her translation of Ion of Euripides, however, H.D. remained preoccupied with the shared myths, narratives, and archetypes that recur throughout history. However, the individual is not trapped within the recursive movement of history. H.D. became increasingly concerned with not only revealing the motifs and themes that recur across temporal boundaries, but encouraging change on the part of the reader as well. As in her work with Ion of Euripides, classical sources served as a means for H.D. to make the reader aware of history’s elliptical path. Yet she hoped that, by holding a mirror to culture, her book would also serve as a call to action.
In this sense, Helen in Egypt differs from Ion of Euripides in that the recurrent patterns of history are subject to revision. Classical sources still serve as a means by which to gesture at the themes and motifs that recur across cultures. Yet in her later work, consciousness of these patterns retains the possibility of liberating the reader from them. Consider this passage,
It is the burning ember
that I remember,
heart of the fire,consuming Greek heroes;
it is the funeral pyre
it is incense through incense trees,wafted here through the columns;
never, never do I forget the host,
the chosen, the flowerof all-time, of all-history…[18]
Here H.D. portrays history as “a flower” unfolding over time, suggesting the regularity and predictability of history as the same themes and motifs recur across time. In many ways, H.D. underscores the importance of becoming conscious of them. For the speaker of the poem, “remembrance” becomes a sources of empowerment. Indeed, her remembrance takes place outside of history, as Egypt serves as a holding place for Helen as she gains agency over the collective beliefs that have heretofore defined her. For the reader, too, consciousness of history’s recursive patterns allows him or her to step outside of history, and to gain agency as a result.
Yet her use of classical sources in Helen of Egypt proves similar to Ion of Euripides in that they serve to caution the reader against implying causal relationships between historical phenomena. Indeed, most historical agents remain largely unconscious of the shared myths, archetypes and narratives that drive history. Throughout Ion of Euripides, for example, this idea is enacted in the play’s portrayal of the relationships between historical epochs. H.D. writes in the play’s stage directions,
…one Ionic column lives to tell of the greatest aesthetic miracle of all-time, welding of beauty and strength, the absolute achievement of physical perfection by the spirit of man, before the world sank into the darkness of late Rome and the Middle Ages, this goddess lives.[19]
As in Helen in Egypt, H.D. portrays this lack of historical remembrance as “darkness,” suggesting the dangers inherent in forgetting. Indeed, H.D. posits the three historical epochs mentioned as unified by the presence of recurrent motifs and symbols (such as the “one Ionic column”), a fact that few citizens remained conscious of. Indeed, throughout Ion, these continuities are portrayed as largely unacknowledged by historical agents. Rather, they are described from outside of history as the stage directions draw attention to them.
While the two books prove similar in their presentation of history as recursive, Helen in Egypt remains distinctive in that it is possible to return from this place outside of history, and to effect change. In many ways, H.D.’s later work is marked by an even greater activist impulse than her earlier work. The poet not only holds a mirror to culture, but posits an alternative way of conceptualizing and inhabiting history.
History in Translation: Gaining Agency through Interpretation
Like Ion of Euripides, H.D.’s Helen in Egypt underscores the necessity of becoming conscious of the shared myths and narratives that drive history. Rather than forming simple causal relationships between historical phenomena, the individual is encouraged to become aware of collective consciousness as the force that drives history. For H.D., its presence explains the motifs and symbols that recur across cultural and temporal boundaries. Yet Helen in Egypt remains distinctive in the agency that it affords the reader. Rather than merely gesturing at the recursive nature of history, H.D. suggests the possibility of effecting change through one’s continuous interpretation of history as a text. By practicing awareness in such a way, it becomes possible for the reader to gain agency over the symbols and motifs that recur throughout history, reinscribing them with new possibilities for interpretation.
As H.D. pursues this line of thought in Helen in Egypt, her translation work serves as a foundation for her thinking about history. Consider her presentation of “all-time” in Helen in Egypt. Throughout the book, “all-time” refers to history in its entirety, which has single “first-cause” and is comprised of “all myth, one reality.”[20] History, then, is continuous, emanating from a single source: collective consciousness. In many ways, passages like these echo H.D.’s presentation of all historical epochs—Greece, Rome, and the Middle Ages, for example—as connected whether one remains aware of these connections or not. As in her translation work, history represents a recursive movement across temporal and cultural boundaries. Throughout both works, the juxtaposition of ancient and modern languages ultimately reveals these historical continuities.
Helen in Egypt remains unique in that it presents an alternative mode of conceptualizing history. Once the reader has understood history as a recursive process, he or she is then prompted to participate in the process of creating meaning from its disparate phenomena. This idea is enacted in H.D.’s presentation of the image of the flower, which often serves an emblem for history. Here the image is reclaimed through the process of the poet’s interpretation. H.D. writes, for example,
I have seen you upon the ramparts,
no art is beneath your power,you stole the chosen, the flower,
of all-time, of all-history,
my children, my legions…[21]
Here the flower serves as emblem for history’s unfolding, the course of which has been appropriated by masculine war culture. As the poem continues, however, the flower is reinscribed with myriad other possibilities for interpretation. The reader is prompted to decide between them, ultimately participating in the process of creating meaning from the poem. In many ways, H.D. sees the relationship between the reader and her own text as a model for the way in which one should relate to history as a text. Both are inherently unstable, each motif and symbol giving way to proliferation of meaning. The reader of Helen in Egypt (and of history more generally) is prompted both to become aware of the shared beliefs and narratives that make the text possible, and to assume greater agency in determining their meaning.
With that in mind, one observes the centrality of translation to the composition of Helen in Egypt. Translation allows one to approach history as a text, suggesting the inherent subjectivity in creating meaning from its recurrent motifs. Indeed, this method of conceptualizing history forms a stark contrast with prevailing definitions of history as a linear process, in which one event can easily be traced to the next. H.D. envisions history instead as a network of sorts, one in which the connections between phenomena are both complex and highly ambiguous. Translation, for H.D., divests masculine readings of history of some of their authority, ultimately opening up the possibility of alternative methods of interpretation.
The Reader as Translator: Consciousness in Translation
Throughout Helen in Egypt, H.D. places the reader in the role of translator, ultimately prompting them to participating in the process of creating meaning from history. The reader is presented with phenomena from disparate historical periods, including ancient Greece, twentieth century America and Europe, and the time that has elapsed between the two. The reader is then asked to sort through the recurring motifs within the text of the poem, which often serves as an emblem for history itself. H.D. herself discovered recurrent motifs within history and brought them to light in her translations of ancient Greek drama. The reader is then asked to do the same with the text of the poem. In this respect, H.D. sustains a meaningful relationship between form and content throughout the poem.
In many ways, the myths, archetypes, narratives, and symbols that populate collective consciousness, and manifest throughout history, are integral to the text of the poem as well. Yet H.D. presents these phenomena with a great deal of self-awareness, ultimately instructing the reader as to how they might best be read and interpreted. Consider her presentation of the image of the shell throughout the poem. She writes,
a simple spiral shell may tell
a tale more ancient
than these mysteries;dare the uncharted seas…[22]
Here the image of the shell, like the symbols and motifs that populate history, retains myriad possible subjective interpretations despite its uncomplicated appearance. It is both artifact of Helen’s personal history on the shores of Egypt and a reminder of “a tale more ancient/than these mysteries.” As the poem unfolds, the same image acquires myriad other possibilities for interpretation. Consider this passage,
“—it’s only a winding stair
a spiral, like a snail shell”‘;“—a trap—let others go—”[23]
Here H.D. underscores the possibility of become entrapped within the recurrent themes and motifs of history. For H.D., this danger remains especially threatening for those who fail to participate in the process of creating meaning from historical phenomena. Approached with these ideas in mind, H.D.’s presentation of the image ultimately mirrors the process of interpretation she is asking the reader to engage in with history. As in the text of collective consciousness, images, motifs, and symbols resurface, often in a different context than before. The reader is asked to participate in the process of creating meaning from them, and sorting through the myriad possibilities for interpretation that are available within the text in question.
In many ways, H.D.’s presentation of such images within the poem embodies an alternative interpretation of history, in which the reader is invited to participate and carry on after their engagement with the text itself. In H.D. and the Image, Rachel O’Connor writes that “H.D.’s construction of the image simultaneously engages with and resists dominant ideologies of gender and sexuality.”[24] O’Conner correctly underscores H.D.’s use of the image to question not only dominant models of literary interpretation, but their underlying logic. Many of H.D.’s male contemporaries envisioned interpretation as being, like history, a logical progression from idea to the next. Yet, for H.D., the poetic image allows myriad possibilities for interpretation to coexist within the same narrative space. The reader does not have to choose between these possibilities, but rather, is asked to contemplate the relationship between them. When thinking of social relations in the mid-twentieth century, H.D.’s use of the poetic image speaks to the widespread desire to inscribe history with a single authoritative interpretation of past events. Through her use of the poetic image, H.D. challenges not only the actions that have led taken place, but their most fundamental logic. It is the reader who is asked to look to the future, and contemplate the implications of change for future generations.
With that said, it is the process of translation that opens up these possibilities for H.D. Indeed, her model of translation operates through juxtaposition, a process in which images and other phenomena illuminate and complicate one another. By pairing ancient and modern, H.D.’s model of translation situates the present within a broader historical trajectory, ultimately prompting the reader to consider its implications for the future. In H.D.’s presentation of history, the poetic image often serves a generative function. Because images appear and reappear, the end result is a proliferation of meaning, one that is initiated by the numerous juxtapositions of images. Indeed, Eileen Gregory writes in H.D. and Hellenism that “H.D. in her translations presents Euripides as imagist. His choruses become for her a kind of image-theatre of phanopoeia…”[25] By underscoring this facet of Euripides’ original text, H.D. helps the reader to see, as well as to enact, the process of creating meaning from history. For H.D., the juxtapositions inherent in translation work ultimately serve as the foundation for this process of creating meaning, and assuming agency over historical phenomena.
Conclusion
Throughout H.D.’s early translation work, the act of juxtaposing ancient and modern opened of new ways of conceptualizing history. Translation allowed H.D. to see history as a recursive process, in which motifs, symbols, and cultural narratives appear and reappear. F or H.D., this process is ultimately driven by collective consciousness. History, like the psyche itself, it a text to be interpreted. Throughout her early work on Ion of Euripides, H.D. uses translation as a space in which she can explore particular motifs that recur throughout history, namely through her juxtaposition of history, the present, and the time that has elapsed between the two. Translation ultimately afforded a new model for conceptualizing history, in which history is no longer a linear progression from one idea to the next, but rather a recursive movement between facets of collective consciousness.
In many ways, her beliefs about translation arose from her psychoanalysis with Sigmund Freud, which occurred shortly before she commenced work on Ion of Euripides. Indeed, psychoanalysis, the war, and history were fundamentally intertwined for H.D. These questions continued to interest her as she began work on Helen in Egypt. Drawing from classical sources in this text as well, H.D. uses them to make similar claims about history. By juxtaposing ancient and modern, H.D. ultimately gestures at the commonalities between the two. Indeed, she presents history as a recursive movement between the same recurrent motifs within collective consciousness. Throughout Helen in Egypt, Freud’s conceptualization of the psyche serves as a model for H.D.’s thinking about history. In this respect, H.D.’s early translation work remained foundation for her later poem.
With that said, Helen in Egypt differs from her translation of Ion of Euripides in that the work does not merely document commonalities between ancient and modern, but rather, serves as a call to action. Indeed, H.D. presents the process of making meaning from the recurrent themes and motifs within history as a source of agency. She then places the reader in a more active role, prompting them to participating in the process of interpreting history as text. In this respect, H.D. not only questions her male contemporaries’ assumptions about history, but also presents an alternative conceptual framework.
This alternative, while based in psychoanalytic thought, proves more democratic then psychoanalysis as an institution during that time period. Rather than reinforcing dominant ideas about gender, race, and social relations, H.D. affords the opportunity for the reader to question them through their interpretation of history, its motifs, and its shared narratives. While collective consciousness is made possible by shared beliefs, H.D. suggests the possibility of revising them through one’s engagement with history as text, ultimately initiating change for both the present and for future generations.
[1] Robert Duncan, The H.D. Book (Berkeley: University of California Press), 2011, 625.
[2] Richard Aldington, Hilda Doolittle, and Caroline Zilboorg. Richard Aldington & H.D.: Their Lives in Letters (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), 141.
[3] Hilda Doolittle, Euripides, Carol Camper. Hippolytus Temporizes & Ion: Adaptations of Two Plays by Euripides (New York: New Directions, 1937), ix.
[4] Stephen G. Yao. Translation and the Languages of Modernism (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2002).
[5] Ibid, 27.
[6] Bruce Nadel. The Cambridge Companion to Ezra Pound (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 207.
[7] Jacob Korg. Winter Love (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2003), 108.
[8] Rosemarie Waldrop. Lavish Absence: Recalling and Rereading Edmund Jabes (Wesleyan: Wesleyan University Press, 2002), 76.
[9] Euripides and David Lan. Ion (New York: Metheun Drama, 1994).
[10] H.D. Ion of Euripides (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1937), 6.
[11] Ibid, 6-7.
[12] Ibid, 63.
[13] Victoria Pedrick. Euripides, Freud, and the Romance of Belonging (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007).
[14] Sigmund Freud, Hilda Doolittle, Bryher, and Susan Stanford Friedman. Analyzing Freud: Letters of H.D., Bryher, and Their Circle (New York: New Directions Publishing, 2002), 538.
[15] Sigmund Freud. The Interpretation of Dreams (New York: MacMillan, 1913), 218.
[16] H.D. Ion of Euripides (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1937), 127.
[17] Susan Edmunds. Out of Line: History, Psychoanalysis, and Montage in H.D.’s Long Poems (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), 12.
[18] H.D. Helen in Egypt (New York: New Directions, 1961), 20.
[19] H.D. Ion of Euripides (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1937), 127-128.
[20] H.D. Helen in Egypt (New York: New Directions, 1961), 47.
[21] Ibid, 16.
[22] Ibid, 107.
[23] Ibid, 128.
[24] Rachel O’Connor. H.D. and the Image (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004), 53.
[25] Eileen Gregory. H.D. and Hellenism: Classic Lines (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 140.