Than Pipit’s experience could provide.

  I shall not want Pipit in Heaven:

  Madame Blavatsky will instruct me

  In the Seven Sacred Trances;

  Piccarda de Donati will conduct me.

  . . . . .

  But where is the penny world I bought

  To eat with Pipit behind the screen?

  The red-eyed scavengers are creeping

  From Kentish Town and Golder’s Green;

  Where are the eagles and the trumpets?

  Buried beneath some snow-deep Alps.

  Over buttered scones and crumpets

  Weeping, weeping multitudes

  Droop in a hundred A.B.C.’s.

  Le Directeur

  Malheur à la malheureuse Tamise

  Qui coule si près du Spectateur.

  Le directeur

  Conservateur

  Du Spectateur

  Empeste la brise.

  Les actionnaires

  Réactionnaires

  Du Spectateur

  Conservateur

  Bras dessus bras dessous

  Font des tours

  A pas de loup.

  Dans un égout

  Une petite fille

  En guenilles

  Camarde

  Regarde

  Le directeur

  Du Spectateur

  Conservateur

  Et crève d’amour.

  Mélange Adultère de Tout

  En Amérique, professeur;

  En Angleterre, journaliste;

  C’est à grands pas et en sueur

  Que vous suivrez à peine ma piste.

  En Yorkshire, conférencier;

  A Londres, un peu banquier,

  Vous me paierez bien la tête.

  C’est à Paris que je me coiffe

  Casque noir de jemenfoutiste.

  En Allemagne, philosophe

  Surexcité par Emporheben

  Au grand air de Bergsteigleben;

  J’erre toujours de-ci de-là

  A divers coups de tra là là

  De Damas jusqu’ à Omaha.

  Je célébrai mon jour de fête

  Dans une oasis d’Afrique

  Vêtu d’une peau de girafe.

  On montrera mon cénotaphe

  Aux côtes brûlantes de Mozambique.

  Lune de Miel

  Ils ont vu les Pays-Bas, ils rentrent à Terre Haute;

  Mais une nuit d’été, les voici à Ravenne,

  A l’aise entre deux draps, chez deux centaines de punaises;

  La sueur aestivale, et une forte odeur de chienne.

  Ils restent sur le dos écartant les genoux

  De quatre jambes molles tout gonflées de morsures.

  On relève le drap pour mieux égratigner.

  Moins d’une lieue d’ici est Saint Apollinaire

  En Classe, basilique connue des amateurs

  De chapitaux d’acanthe que tournoie le vent.

  Ils vont prendre le train de huit heures

  Prolonger leurs misères de Padoue à Milan

  Où se trouve la Cène, et un restaurant pas cher.

  Lui pense aux pourboires, et rédige son bilan.

  Ils auront vu la Suisse et traversé la France.

  Et Saint Apollinaire, raide et ascétique,

  Vieille usine désaffectée de Dieu, tient encore

  Dans ses pierres écroulantes la forme précise de Byzance.

  The Hippopotamus

  And when this epistle is read among you, cause that

  it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.

  The broad-backed hippopotamus

  Rests on his belly in the mud;

  Although he seems so firm to us

  He is merely flesh and blood.

  Flesh and blood is weak and frail.

  Susceptible to nervous shock;

  While the True Church can never fail

  For it is based upon a rock.

  The hippo’s feeble steps may err

  In compassing material ends,

  While the True Church need never stir

  To gather in its dividends.

  The ’potamus can never reach

  The mango on the mango-tree;

  But fruits of pomegranate and peach

  Refresh the Church from over sea.

  At mating time the hippo’s voice

  Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,

  But every week we hear rejoice

  The Church, at being one with God.

  The hippopotamus’s day

  Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;

  God works in a mysterious way —

  The Church can sleep and feed at once.

  I saw the ’potamus take wing

  Ascending from the damp savannas,

  And quiring angels round him sing

  The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

  Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean

  And him shall heavenly arms enfold.

  Among the saints he shall be seen

  Performing on a harp of gold.

  He shall be washed as white as snow,

  By all the martyr’d virgins kist,

  While the True Church remains below

  Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.

  Dans le Restaurant

  Le garçon délabré qui n’a rien à faire

  Que de se gratter les doigts et se pencher sur mon épaule:

  ‘Dans mon pays il fera temps pluvieux,

  Du vent, du grand soleil, et de la pluie;

  C’est ce qu’on appelle le jour de lessive des gueux.’

  (Bavard, baveux, à la croupe arrondie,

  Je te prie, au moins, ne bave pas dans la soupe).

  ‘Les saules trempés, et des bourgeons sur les ronces —

  C’est là, dans une averse, qu’on s’abrite.

  J’avais sept ans, elle était plus petite.

  Ellé était toute mouillée, je lui ai donné des primevères.’

  Les taches de son gilet montent au chiffre de trente-huit.

  ‘Je la chatouillais, pour la faire rire.

  J’éprouvais un instant de puissance et de délire.’

  Mais alors, vieux lubrique, à cet âge …

  ‘Monsieur, le fait est dur.

  Il est venu, nous peloter, un gros chien;

  Moi j’avais peur, je l’ai quittée à mi-chemin.

  C’est dommage.’

  Mais alors, tu as ton vautour!

  Va t’en te décrotter les rides du visage;

  Tiens, ma fourchette, décrasse-toi le crâne.

  De quel droit payes-tu des expériences comme moi?

  Tiens, voilà dix sous, pour la salle-de-bains.

  Phlébas, le Phénicien, pendant quinze jours noyé,

  Oubliait les cris des mouettes et la houle de Cornouaille,

  Et les profits et les pertes, et la cargaison d’étain:

  Un courant de sous-mer l’emporta très loin,

  Le repassant aux étapes de sa vie antérieure.

  Figurez-vous done, c’était un sort pénible;

  Cependant, ce fut jadis un bel homme, de haute taille.

  Whispers of Immortality

  Webster was much possessed by death

  And saw the skull beneath the skin;

  And breastless creatures under ground

  Leaned backward with a lipless grin.

  Daffodil bulbs instead of balls

  Stared from the sockets of the eyes!

  He knew that thought clings round dead limbs

  Tightening its lusts and luxuries.

  Donne, I suppose, was such another

  Who found no substitute for sense,

  To seize and clutch and penetrate;

  Expert beyond experience,

  He knew the anguish of the marrow

  The ague of the skeleton;

  No contact possible to flesh

  Allayed the fever of the bone.

  . . . . .


  Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye

  Is underlined for emphasis;

  Uncorseted, her friendly bust

  Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.

  The couched Brazilian jaguar

  Compels the scampering marmoset

  With subtle effluence of cat;

  Grishkin has a maisonnette;

  The sleek Brazilian jaguar

  Does not in its arboreal gloom

  Distil so rank a feline smell

  As Grishkin in a drawing-room.

  And even the Abstract Entities

  Circumambulate her charm;

  But our lot crawls between dry ribs

  To keep our metaphysics warm.

  Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service

  Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.

  The Jew of Malta.

  Polyphiloprogenitive

  The sapient sutlers of the Lord

  Drift across the window-panes.

  In the beginning was the Word.

  In the beginning was the Word.

  Superfetation of

  And at the mensual turn of time

  Produced enervate Origen.

  A painter of the Umbrian school

  Designed upon a gesso ground

  The nimbus of the Baptized God.

  The wilderness is cracked and browned

  But through the water pale and thin

  Still shine the unoffending feet

  And there above the painter set

  The Father and the Paraclete.

  . . . . .

  The sable presbyters approach

  The avenue of penitence;

  The young are red and pustular

  Clutching piaculative pence.

  Under the penitential gates

  Sustained by staring Seraphim

  Where the souls of the devout

  Burn invisible and dim.

  Along the garden-wall the bees

  With hairy bellies pass between

  The staminate and pistillate.

  Blest office of the epicene.

  Sweeney shifts from ham to ham

  Stirring the water in his bath.

  The masters of the subtle schools

  Are controversial, polymath.

  Sweeney Among the Nightingales

  Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees

  Letting his arms hang down to laugh,

  The zebra stripes along his jaw

  Swelling to maculate giraffe.

  The circles of the stormy moon

  Slide westward toward the River Plate,

  Death and the Raven drift above

  And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate.

  Gloomy Orion and the Dog

  Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;

  The person in the Spanish cape

  Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees

  Slips and pulls the table cloth

  Overturns a coffee-cup,

  Reorganised upon the floor

  She yawns and draws a stocking up;

  The silent man in mocha brown

  Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;

  The waiter brings in oranges

  Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;

  The silent vertebrate in brown

  Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;

  Rachel née Rabinovitch

  Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;

  She and the lady in the cape

  Are suspect, thought to be in league;

  Therefore the man with heavy eyes

  Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,

  Leaves the room and reappears

  Outside the window, leaning in,

  Branches of wistaria

  Circumscribe a golden grin;

  The host with someone indistinct

  Converses at the door apart,

  The nightingales are singing near

  The Convent of the Sacred Heart,

  And sang within the bloody wood

  When Agamemnon cried aloud

  And let their liquid siftings fall

  To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.

  THE WASTE LAND

  1922

  ‘Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: respondebat illa:

  For Ezra Pound

  il miglior fabbro.

  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.

  Winter kept us warm, covering

  Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

  A little life with dried tubers.

  Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

  With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

  10 And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

  And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

  Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.

  And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,

  My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled.

  And I was frightened. He said, Marie,

  Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.

  In the mountains, there you feel free.

  I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

  What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

  20 Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

  You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

  A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

  And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

  And the dry stone no sound of water. Only

  There is shadow under this red rock,

  (Come in under the shadow of this red rock),