19 Works of T S Eliot
“All talk on modern poetry, by people who know,” wrote Mr. Carl Sandburg in Poetry, “ends with dragging in Ezra Pound somewhere. He may be named only to be cursed as wanton and mocker, poseur, trifler and vagrant. Or he may be classed as filling a niche today like that of Keats in a preceding [...]
En Amerique, professeur; En Angleterre, journaliste; C’est a grands pas et en sueur Que vous suivrez a peine ma piste. En Yorkshire, conferencier; A Londres, un peu banquier, Vous me paierez bien la tete. C’est a Paris que je me coiffe Casque noir de jemenfoutiste. En Allemagne, philosophe Surexcite par Emporheben Au grand air de [...]
Ils ont vu les Pays-Bas, ils rentrent a Terre Haute; Mais une nuit d’ete, les voici a Ravenne, A l’sur le dos ecartant les genoux De quatre jambes molles tout gonflees de morsures. On releve le drap pour mieux egratigner. Moins d’une lieue d’ici est Saint Apollinaire In Classe, basilique connue des amateurs De chapitaux [...]
Malheur a la malheureuse Tamise! Tamisel Qui coule si pres du Spectateur. Le directeur Conservateur Du Spectateur Empeste la brise. Les actionnaires Reactionnaires Du Spectateur Conservateur Bras dessus bras dessous Font des tours A pas de loup. Dans un egout Une petite fille En guenilles Camarde Regarde Le directeur Du Spectateur Conservateur Et creve d’amour.
“Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo.”
I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. [...]
Webster was much possessed by deathAnd saw the skull beneath the skin;And breastless creatures under groundLeaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of ballsStared from the sockets of the eyes!He knew that thought clings round dead limbsTightening its lusts and luxuries.
Donne, I suppose, was such anotherWho found no substitute for sense;To seize and clutch [...]
Look, look, master, here comes two religionscaterpillars.The Jew of Malta.
PolyphiloprogenitiveThe sapient sutlers of the LordDrift across the window-panes.In the beginning was the Word.
In the beginning was the Word.Superfetation of [Greek text inserted here],And at the mensual turn of timeProduced enervate Origen.
A painter of the Umbrian schoolDesigned upon a gesso groundThe nimbus of the Baptized God.The [...]
Apeneck Sweeney spreads his kneesLetting his arms hang down to laugh,The zebra stripes along his jawSwelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moonSlide westward toward the River Plate,Death and the Raven drift aboveAnd Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Gloomy Orion and the DogAre veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;The person in the Spanish capeTries to [...]
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosseA persona che mai tornasse al mondo,Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondoNon torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I,When the evening is spread out against the skyLike a patient etherized upon a table;Let us go, through [...]
The winter evening settles downWith smell of steaks in passageways.Six o’clock.The burnt-out ends of smoky days.And now a gusty shower wrapsThe grimy scrapsOf withered leaves about your feetAnd newspapers from vacant lots;The showers beatOn broken blinds and chimney-pots,And at the corner of the streetA lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.And then the lighting of the lamps.
Twelve o’clock.Along the reaches of the streetHeld in a lunar synthesis,Whispering lunar incantationsDissolve the floors of the memoryAnd all its clear relations,Its divisions and precisions,Every street lamp that I passBeats like a fatalistic drum,And through the spaces of the darkMidnight shakes the memoryAs a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Half-past one,The street lamp sputtered,The street lamp [...]
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,And along the trampled edges of the streetI am aware of the damp souls of housemaidsSprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to meTwisted faces from the bottom of the street,And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirtsAn aimless smile that hovers in the [...]
The readers of the Boston Evening TranscriptSway in the blind like a field of ripe corn.When evening quickens faintly in the street,Wakening the appetites of life in someAnd to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,I mount the steps and ring the bell, turningWearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to RochefoucauldIf the street were [...]
Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,And lived in a small house near a fashionable squareCared for by servants to the number of four.Now when she died there was silence in heavenAnd silence at her end of the street.The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet–He was aware that this sort of thing [...]
Miss Nancy EllicotStrode across the hills and broke themRode across the hills and broke them–The barren New England hillsRiding to houndsOver the cow-pasture.
Miss Nancy Ellicott smokedAnd danced all the modern dances;And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it,But they knew that it was modern.
Upon the glazen shelves kept watchMatthew and Waldo, [...]
When Mr. Apollinax visited the United StatesHis laughter tinkled among the teacups.I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure among the birch-trees,And of Priapus in the shrubberyGaping at the lady in the swing.In the palace of Mrs. Phlaccus, at Professor Channing-Cheetah’sHe laughed like an irresponsible foetus.His laughter was submarine and profoundLike the old man of the [...]
As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of [...]
I observe: “Our sentimental friend the moonOr possibly (fantastic, I confess)It may be Prester John’s balloonOr an old battered lantern hung aloftTo light poor travellers to their distress.”She then: “How you digress!”
And I then: “Some one frames upon the keysThat exquisite nocturne, with which we explainThe night and moonshine; music which we seizeTo body forth [...]
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair–Lean on a garden urn–Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair–Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise–Fling them to the ground and turnWith a fugitive resentment in your eyes:But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,So I would have had [...]