Who are "we" in the poem?

The "we" refers to those who still appreciate classical beauty—poets, artists, and anyone influenced by the aesthetics of the ancient world. H. D. portrays them as old cells in a hive, bearing "old dust of stray pollen" on frayed wings. They may be remnants rather than the main force, but the poem insists that their role in remembering and envisioning beauty is still significant.

What do the larvae represent?

The larvae (H. D. spells it *larve*, the Latin plural) symbolize the new urban masses — individuals packed into modern cities who have yet to form a connection with beauty. They aren't villains; they're still in development. However, in the poem, they voice their frustrations, declaring the old cells as useless and merely occupying space. They represent the overwhelming force of numbers and modernity clashing with the delicate remnants of older culture.

Why does H. D. keep asking "can we believe"?

Because she’s unsure. The poem serves as an argument she's crafting for herself just as much as for the reader. The repeated question marks indicate the moments when the myth she's building—that the city's ugliness serves a purpose—feels most difficult to grasp. This is a rhetorical device, yet it’s also emotionally genuine: she’s striving to believe this rather than simply stating a belief she already holds.

What is the significance of the beehive metaphor?

The hive allows H. D. to discuss two types of people living together in the same city without implying that one is superior to the other. The old cells contain honey — a concentrated, precious beauty. The new cells hold larvae — raw life full of potential. Both are essential to the same structure. This metaphor also enables her to portray the artist's situation without self-pity: they are workers in a hive, not aristocrats living in exile.

Is this poem anti-modern or anti-city?

Not exactly. H. D. openly acknowledges that modern cities often seem like a disappointment, but the myth she creates frames this ugliness as a temporary phase rather than a lasting failure. Her concluding lines anticipate the "new beauty of cities," focusing on the future instead of reminiscing about ancient temples. While she critiques the current state of cities, she remains hopeful about their potential for transformation.

How does this poem fit into Imagism?

It's an unusual combination. Imagism typically refers to brief, focused poems centered on a single image—no debate, no myth, just the image itself. *Cities* is longer, more expansive, and clearly philosophical. Still, the Imagist influence is evident in the vivid sensory details like "hyacinth-shadows / black on the pavement" and in the connection to classical Greek aesthetics that permeates H. D.'s writing.

What does "thin rare gold" mean?

It describes the old cells — the lasting echoes of classical beauty and the people who embody them. Gold is valuable but also delicate when it's hammered thin. This phrase reflects both the worth and the fragility of what the old world has given us. The larvae aim to melt it down for their own purposes; H. D. believes it should be saved.

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CITIES by H. D.

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Poet: H. D.
Era: Modernist (1916)
Themes: beauty, hope, identity

The PoemFull text

CITIES

H. D., 1916

Can we believe--by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street, each patterned alike, no grace to lighten a single house of the hundred crowded into one garden-space. Crowded--can we believe, not in utter disgust, in ironical play-- but the maker of cities grew faint with the beauty of temple and space before temple, arch upon perfect arch, of pillars and corridors that led out to strange court-yards and porches where sun-light stamped hyacinth-shadows black on the pavement. That the maker of cities grew faint with the splendour of palaces, paused while the incense-flowers from the incense-trees dropped on the marble-walk, thought anew, fashioned this-- street after street alike. For alas, he had crowded the city so full that men could not grasp beauty, beauty was over them, through them, about them, no crevice unpacked with the honey, rare, measureless. So he built a new city, ah can we believe, not ironically but for new splendour constructed new people to lift through slow growth to a beauty unrivalled yet-- and created new cells, hideous first, hideous now-- spread larve across them, not honey but seething life. And in these dark cells, packed street after street, souls live, hideous yet-- O disfigured, defaced, with no trace of the beauty men once held so light. Can we think a few old cells were left--we are left-- grains of honey, old dust of stray pollen dull on our torn wings, we are left to recall the old streets? Is our task the less sweet that the larve still sleep in their cells? Or crawl out to attack our frail strength: You are useless. We live. We await great events. We are spread through this earth. We protect our strong race. You are useless. Your cell takes the place of our young future strength. Though they sleep or wake to torment and wish to displace our old cells-- thin rare gold-- that their larve grow fat-- is our task the less sweet? Though we wander about, find no honey of flowers in this waste, is our task the less sweet-- who recall the old splendour, await the new beauty of cities?

§01Quick summary

What this poem is about

H. D. envisions the modern city as a purposeful experiment: a divine city-builder, struck by the overwhelming perfection of ancient beauty, stripped everything down and began anew with raw, unappealing cells — representing us, ordinary people packed into monotonous streets. The poem questions if those of us who still hold onto memories of beauty have a role, even as the world around us seems ungraceful and unfriendly. The conclusion it reaches is a gentle yes: to remember the old magnificence and anticipate the new is valuable work in itself.

§02Themes

Recurring themes

§03Line by line

Stanza by stanza, with notes

Can we believe--by an effort / comfort our hearts:
Editor's note
H. D. starts in the middle of a thought, as if we’ve interrupted an ongoing argument. The speaker is attempting to convince herself — and us — to see meaning in the modern city instead of just feeling disgust. The word *effort* feels genuine: this comfort doesn't come easily.
Crowded--can we believe, / not in utter disgust,
Editor's note
The stanza rewinds and tries again, this time presenting a myth to explain the ugliness. The city-maker didn’t create this out of contempt or irony — he did it because ancient beauty had become *too much*. Temples, arches, and hyacinth shadows on marble: the old world was so filled with beauty that people couldn’t take it all in anymore.
That the maker of cities grew faint / with the splendour of palaces,
Editor's note
This stanza wraps up the myth. The divine architect, overwhelmed by his own extravagance, took a moment to pause, rethink, and intentionally opted for simplicity. "Street after street alike" isn't a sign of failure—it's a fresh start. H. D. uses the imagery of incense and marble from ancient times to highlight the stark contrast with today's monotonous landscape.
For alas, / he had crowded the city so full
Editor's note
The word *alas* serves as the emotional core of the poem. The old city didn’t fail for lack of beauty; instead, beauty was *everywhere at once* — "no crevice unpacked with the honey." When everything feels extraordinary, nothing truly stands out. This saturation dulled perception.
So he built a new city, / ah can we believe, not ironically
Editor's note
The city-maker's new plan is to construct unappealing cells, fill them with raw, unfinished souls, and allow beauty to develop gradually from the ground up. The term *larve* (larvae) is essential — these new beings are still in a formative stage. H. D. employs the beehive as her main metaphor, establishing the honey/larvae tension that drives the rest of the poem.
And in these dark cells, / packed street after street,
Editor's note
The myth finds its place in the present. The "dark cells" refer to the terraced houses and tenements found in today's city. The souls residing there are portrayed as disfigured and defaced — not malevolent, but lacking the beauty their ancestors once enjoyed. H. D. expresses this with a tone that leans more towards grief than disdain.
Can we think a few old cells / were left--we are left--
Editor's note
The speaker introduces herself and her peers: the artists, those with classical education, and the ones who still bear "old dust of stray pollen" on their wings. They represent the remnants of the old hive, not the new larvae. The image of tattered wings is hauntingly powerful — they are survivors, but they carry their scars.
Is our task the less sweet / that the larve still sleep in their cells?
Editor's note
The larvae express themselves with an aggressive, dismissive tone: *You are useless. We live.* This reflects the voice of contemporary mass culture, industrial society, and overwhelming demographics. The older generation — the artists and memory-keepers — are told they occupy space better suited for the future. H. D. accepts this criticism without flinching.
Though they sleep or wake to torment / and wish to displace our old cells--
Editor's note
H. D. recognizes the urge to fade away, to step aside, to accept insignificance. Yet, the rhetorical question remains strong: the task is still quite rewarding. "Thin rare gold" refers to the old cells — they're fragile, sure, but undeniably valuable. The larvae may crave to thrive in their environment, but that doesn't diminish the worth of the gold.
Though we wander about, / find no honey of flowers in this waste,
Editor's note
The closing stanza serves as the poem's response. Even when traversing a city devoid of flowers or encountering emptiness, the effort to recall past beauty and look forward to new beauty remains meaningful. The final line — "await the new beauty of cities" — embodies an act of faith rather than nostalgia. H. D. isn't yearning for the past; she's asserting that the future will once again hold beauty.

§04Tone & mood

How this poem feels

The tone is searching and quietly defiant. H. D. interrupts herself with phrases like "can we believe," "ah can we believe," which creates the impression of someone grappling with doubt in the moment rather than handing down a final judgment. There's an underlying grief, particularly in the depictions of disfigured souls and torn wings, yet the poem resists sinking into despair. By the end, the voice is steady and almost ceremonial, like someone reaffirming a vow they understand will be difficult to uphold.

§05Symbols & metaphors

Symbols & metaphors

The hive and its cells: The central organizing metaphor. Old cells contain honey — representing art, memory, and classical beauty. New cells contain larvae — symbolizing raw, unformed modern life. The hive illustrates the tension between preservation and growth, contrasting the refinement of the old world with the raw biological energy of the new.
Honey: Concentrated, rare beauty—the kind that took centuries to create. When H. D. describes the old city as having "no crevice unpacked with the honey," she suggests that beauty had become so abundant it was no longer truly felt. The honey that the old cells hold now is valuable precisely because it is rare.
Larvae (larve): The new urban masses aren't fully developed as human beings in the aesthetic sense that H. D. appreciates. While the term is biological and a bit clinical, the poem doesn't intend it as an insult — just as larvae eventually transform into something more. They symbolize potential that hasn't yet taken form.
Hyacinth-shadows on the pavement: A vivid image of classical beauty — sunlight streaming through hyacinth flowers, casting dark shadows on marble. This represents the entire lost world of ancient Mediterranean culture that H. D., influenced by Greek poetry as an Imagist, considers the gold standard of human achievement.
Torn wings: The situation of the surviving artists and memory-keepers is tough. They still carry pollen—the seeds of beauty—but they are damaged and worn out, struggling to fly properly. It's a genuine portrayal: H. D. doesn’t sugarcoat the artist's role in today's industrial society.
Street after street alike: The visual signature of modernity is the repetitive, indistinct urban grids. This phrase appears three times, each time taking on a slightly different meaning: first as a sign of disgust, then as a conscious decision made by the city-maker, and finally as the everyday experience of the new souls. The repetition in the poem reflects the very repetition it portrays.

§06Historical context

Historical context

H. D. (Hilda Doolittle) released *Cities* in her first book, *Sea Garden*, published in 1916. She was a key figure in the Imagist movement, which Ezra Pound named and partly shaped around her work. Imagism focused on vivid, concrete images rather than the sentimentality typical of the Victorian era, drawing inspiration from ancient Greek and Latin poetry. H. D. grew up in Pennsylvania but moved to London in 1911, creating a noticeable tension between the classical world she studied and the industrial cities she inhabited, reflected in both her life and her art. *Cities* takes a unique approach within Imagism — it leans more towards argument and mythology than many other Imagist poems — yet its sensory clarity and connection to Greek aesthetics are distinctly hers. The beehive metaphor might also suggest a subtle feminist message: the hive represents a female-led society, and the poem's champions of beauty are depicted as workers rather than mere decorations.

§07FAQ

Questions readers ask

It's about the harshness of modern cities and whether those who value beauty still have a role in them. H. D. creates a myth: a divine city-builder intentionally designed the new city to be plain and filled it with unformed souls, as a way to reset after the ancient beauty became too much to handle. The poem questions if the survivors of the old world — artists and memory-keepers — still have a purpose. It concludes that they do.

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CITIES by H. D.

CITIES

What this poem is about

Recurring themes

Stanza by stanza, with notes

How this poem feels

Symbols & metaphors

Historical context

Questions readers ask

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