Named for the river of forgetfulness in Greek myth, H.D.’s poem imagines death as a place stripped of every comfort. The repeated “nor” denies the dead all the things that might soften an ending: animal skins, cloth, wooden shelters, fir and pine, gorse and yew, the scent of flowering bushes, the calls of linnet and thrush. Even a lover’s word, touch, or look is refused. What remains is only the impersonal movement of the full tide, which covers the body “without question, / without kiss.” The speaker’s tone is quiet and resolute, not bitter; there is grief here, but it is held very still. The mood is bare, cold, and oddly calm — a final letting-go with no false tenderness, as if the dead have passed beyond both comfort and desire. It feels less like mourning than like a deliberate, almost ritual unburdening.
Lethe — Summary
Nor skin nor hide nor fleece Shall cover you, Nor curtain of crimson nor fine Shelter of cedar-wood be over you, Nor the fir-tree Nor the pine. Nor sight of whin nor gorse Nor river-yew, Nor fragrance of flowering bush, Nor wailing of reed-bird to waken you, Nor of linnet, Nor of thrush. Nor word nor touch nor sight Of lover, you Shall long through the night but for this: The roll of the full tide to cover you Without question, Without kiss.