What does the ending mean — did the person escape?

The speaker completely loses track of the trail amidst the larch cones and underbrush, concluding that a wood-daemon 'lightened' the pursued person's steps—rendering them untraceable. It’s unclear whether this suggests actual supernatural help or if it's just the speaker's way of coping with defeat, but either way, the pursued figure has vanished. The ending captures both a sense of loss and a hint of miracle.

Why does H.D. use 'you' throughout the poem?

Addressing the absent person as 'you' fosters a sense of intimacy that a third-person description would destroy. It gives the poem the feeling that the speaker is directly engaging with the person they're pursuing, despite that person being out of reach. This approach also draws the reader into the experience of being pursued, which creates an unsettling yet productive effect.

What is Imagism and how does this poem show it?

Imagism was an early 20th-century poetry movement that removed abstraction and sentimentality, focusing instead on clear, concrete images. *Pursuit* exemplifies this perfectly: each line offers a specific physical detail — a snapped stalk, a split leaf-spine, a bruised thigh. H.D. doesn't dictate your feelings; she presents the evidence and allows the emotion to arise from the images themselves.

What is the significance of the hyacinth?

In Greek myth, Hyacinthus was a striking young man loved by Apollo who met an early death, with his blood transforming into the hyacinth flower. H.D. had a profound understanding of classical mythology, and by placing a broken, half-ripe hyacinth stalk in the path of a chase, she evokes associations of beauty, youth, and sudden disruption in the poem without explicitly stating them.

Is the speaker's tone threatening or loving?

Both elements create a tension that energizes the poem. The speaker follows the other person with an obsessive, nearly violent focus, but the two exclamation marks ('You were swift, swift!', 'And you climbed yet further!') convey admiration more than threat. The poem deliberately leaves the ambiguity between desire and pursuit, love and predation unresolved.

Why does the poem shift to questions near the end?

For most of the poem, the speaker is self-assured, confidently interpreting each clue. The transition to questions ('Did your head, bent back, search further?', 'Did you clutch, stammer...?') indicates the moment when the speaker can no longer perceive the evidence and must rely on imagination. This marks the first sign of doubt in the tracker's authority, paving the way for the supernatural conclusion.

What does 'wood-daemons' mean?

In ancient Greek belief, daemons were spirits — not demons as understood in Christianity, but divine or semi-divine forces that resided in nature. Wood-daemons were the spirits of the forest. By calling upon them, H.D. situates the poem in a pre-Christian, animist realm where the forest is alive and can decide to conceal someone from a pursuer.

The Annotated Edition

PURSUIT by H. D.

Summary, meaning, line-by-line analysis & FAQ.

Read aloud in ~2 minOpen reading mode →

A speaker traces the path left by a fleeing figure through the forest — crushed hyacinths, broken roots, a dragged limb — assembling the chase like a detective piecing together clues.

Poet: H. D.
Era: Modernist (1916)
Themes: fear, identity, love

The PoemFull text

PURSUIT

H. D., 1916

What do I care that the stream is trampled, the sand on the stream-bank still holds the print of your foot: the heel is cut deep. I see another mark on the grass ridge of the bank-- it points toward the wood-path. I have lost the third in the packed earth. But here a wild-hyacinth stalk is snapped: the purple buds--half ripe-- show deep purple where your heel pressed. A patch of flowering grass, low, trailing-- you brushed this: the green stems show yellow-green where you lifted--turned the earth-side to the light: this and a dead leaf-spine, split across, show where you passed. You were swift, swift! here the forest ledge slopes-- rain has furrowed the roots. Your hand caught at this; the root snapped under your weight. I can almost follow the note where it touched this slender tree and the next answered-- and the next. And you climbed yet further! you stopped by the dwarf-cornel-- whirled on your heels, doubled on your track. This is clear-- you fell on the downward slope, you dragged a bruised thigh--you limped-- you clutched this larch. Did your head, bent back, search further-- clear through the green leaf-moss of the larch branches? Did you clutch, stammer with short breath and gasp: _wood-daemons grant life-- give life--I am almost lost._ For some wood-daemon has lightened your steps. I can find no trace of you in the larch-cones and the underbrush.

§01Quick summary

What this poem is about

A speaker traces the path left by a fleeing figure through the forest — crushed hyacinths, broken roots, a dragged limb — assembling the chase like a detective piecing together clues. The pursued individual accelerates, stumbles, and then disappears entirely, as if a wood-spirit whisked them away. The poem doesn't clarify if the chase is erotic, predatory, or mythic — and that ambiguity is what makes it compelling.

§02Themes

Recurring themes

§03Line by line

Stanza by stanza, with notes

What do I care / that the stream is trampled,
Editor's note
The speaker begins mid-thought, almost with a sense of indifference — *what do I care* — yet the effort to note every detail shows just how much they actually care. The trampled stream and the deep heel-print in the sand reveal the speaker as a tracker, interpreting the landscape like a written text. The depth of the heel-cut indicates that the person being pursued was moving quickly, their weight shifted forward.
But here / a wild-hyacinth stalk is snapped:
Editor's note
The phrase 'but here' serves as a pivot — the speaker shifts from one thought to another. The broken hyacinth acts as both a physical hint and a powerful image: it evokes the Greek myth of Hyacinthus, a handsome young man who met an untimely death. The half-ripe purple buds that are crushed underfoot add a bruised, sensual quality to the stanza.
A patch of flowering grass, / low, trailing--
Editor's note
The speaker's focus sharpens to an almost microscopic level: grass stems turn yellow-green where they were lifted, a dead leaf-spine lies split in two. This level of detail reveals an obsession. The pursued figure barely brushed against these objects, yet the speaker interprets every disturbance as if it were a word in a sentence.
You were swift, swift! / here the forest ledge slopes--
Editor's note
The exclamation mark signals the first hint of emotion breaking through the calm tracking voice. The repeated use of 'swift' suggests admiration or awe. The image of a root snapping under the other person's weight indicates they snatched it up in a moment of panic — they were running fast, likely frightened.
I can almost follow the note / where it touched this slender tree
Editor's note
This is the poem's most enigmatic moment. The speaker says they can 'almost follow' a sound — a note — that travels from tree to tree. The tracker has shifted from observing physical signs to sensing vibrations and resonance. The chase has transitioned from the tangible into something akin to music or magic.
And you climbed yet further! / you stopped by the dwarf-cornel--
Editor's note
Another exclamation, another surge of intensity. The pursued figure doubles back on their own track—a classic evasion move. The speaker interprets this with complete clarity: 'this is clear.' The tracker’s confidence remains unwavering, even as the quarry attempts to mislead them.
This is clear-- / you fell on the downward slope,
Editor's note
The pursued individual has stumbled, injured their thigh, and is now limping while gripping a larch for support. The speaker describes this injury with unsettling intimacy. It feels awkward — the tracker understands the other person's body, its weight and pain, without having witnessed it firsthand.
Did your head, bent back, / search further--
Editor's note
The poem introduces questions for the first time. The speaker envisions the pursued individual gazing up through the larch branches—either searching for a way out or seeking divine assistance. The tracker's confidence begins to blend into uncertainty, creating an emotional pivot in the poem.
Did you clutch, / stammer with short breath and gasp:
Editor's note
The speaker envisions the other person praying to wood-daemons — ancient spirits of the forest — pleading for life and a way out. The italicized prayer (*wood-daemons grant life*) is the sole voice besides the speaker's throughout the poem, and it's imagined rather than heard. This element immerses the poem in a mythic, pre-Christian setting.
For some wood-daemon / has lightened your steps.
Editor's note
The speaker admits defeat. The trail has gone cold—there’s no sign among the larch cones and underbrush. Instead of accepting a straightforward failure, the speaker believes that a wood-daemon answered their prayer, causing the disappearance. The ending leaves us wondering—does the speaker feel relieved, lost, or simply in awe? H.D. leaves that unanswered.

§04Tone & mood

How this poem feels

The tone feels tight and obsessive, as if someone is recounting their own fixation in real time. For most of the poem, it maintains a cool and precise quality—almost clinical—which makes the two exclamation marks hit harder when they finally appear. Beneath the tracker's confidence lies a sense of desire and unease that the poem never explicitly labels. By the final lines, the tone transforms into something resembling wonder, even reverence, as the supernatural completely engulfs the pursued figure.

§05Symbols & metaphors

Symbols & metaphors

The heel-print: The deep cut of the heel in the sand is the poem's first and most enduring image. A heel-print is personal—it captures the precise weight and speed of a body—and the speaker examines it with a focus that transcends mere observation. It represents the mark a person leaves on the world and reflects the speaker's desire to bridge the space between that mark and actual presence.
The wild-hyacinth: In Greek mythology, Hyacinthus was a striking young man adored by Apollo, who died accidentally, and his blood transformed into the hyacinth flower. H.D. had a deep connection to classical mythology, and the broken, half-ripened hyacinth stalk here resonates with the idea of beauty interrupted, evoking a pursued figure who might not make it through the chase.
The larch: The larch shows up twice: first, as a support for the person running away after they fall, and later as the final spot where the speaker can detect any sign of life. It represents the line between what can be tracked and the supernatural realm. Beyond the larch, the wood-daemons reign.
Wood-daemons: Ancient Greek forest spirits exist in a gray area between good and evil. Their appearance at the end transforms the entire poem: what initially seems like a realistic chase through the woods becomes a mythic pursuit where divine forces might step in. The daemons respond to the prayer and erase the trail, providing the person being chased with a form of sanctuary.
The snapped root: The root that snaps under the fleeing person's weight reveals a moment of vulnerability — they were moving so quickly that they reached for it and it gave way. This moment shows the speaker, and us, that the pursued figure isn’t invincible. It also signifies where the chase turns into a physically intense and perilous situation.

§06Historical context

Historical context

H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) released *Pursuit* in her 1916 collection *Sea Garden*, which is considered a foundational text of the Imagist movement. Imagism, led by Ezra Pound, called for sharp, clear images without embellishment and free verse that flowed with the rhythm of the subject rather than adhering to a strict metre. *Sea Garden* features poems set in wild, windswept landscapes that evoke both Greek mythology and elemental nature. Having spent years studying classical Greek poetry and mythology, H.D. often weaves ancient myths into immediate sensory experiences. *Pursuit* embodies this approach: it may appear as a nature poem, but the hyacinth and wood-daemons draw it into the realm of Ovid and the pre-Socratic Greeks. Moreover, H.D. was writing during a time when women's desires weren't typically expressed with such active, hunting energy in poetry.

§07FAQ

Questions readers ask

The poem leaves much unsaid. The speaker is the pursuer, while the 'you' represents the one being chased. Their genders, relationship, and the reason for the chase remain unclear. This ambiguity is intentional — H.D. creates a situation that feels archetypal rather than specific, allowing it to embody erotic, predatory, and mythic meanings simultaneously.

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PURSUIT by H. D.

PURSUIT

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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