The Waste Land And Other Poems
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The Waste Land And Other Poems

T. S. Eliot

  1. 96 pages
  2. English
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eBook - ePub

The Waste Land And Other Poems

T. S. Eliot

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About This Book

"For many successive generations now, 'The Waste Land, ' 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, ' and 'Four Quartets' have continued to excited readers and to inspire young poets. Teenagers still discover his work with a thrill of wonder and recognition. Eliot's unique power, his understanding of interrelated beauty and squalor, freshness and despair, survives academic fashions, survives all interpretations, survives even his own dicta and formulations. He is one of the great poets." —Robert Pinsky, former Poet Laureate and author of Singing School
"An exalted nightmare, one of the great poems of the 20th century." —Edward Hirsch, author of How to Read a Poem (and Fall in Love with Poetry) and A Poet's Glossary

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Information

Publisher
Ecco
Year
2014
ISBN
9780547546407

Ash-Wednesday

1930

I
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?
Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there
is nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
II
Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had
been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the
gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible
portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying
Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.
Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and
shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each
other,
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.
III
At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitful face of hope and of despair.
At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man’s mouth dri...

Table of contents

  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
  5. Preludes
  6. Gerontion
  7. Sweeney Among the Nightingales
  8. The Waste Land
  9. I. The Burial of the Dead
  10. II. A Game of Chess
  11. III. The Fire Sermon
  12. IV. Death by Water
  13. V. What the Thunder Said
  14. Notes On ‘The Waste Land’
  15. Ash-Wednesday
  16. Journey of the Magi
  17. Marina
  18. Landscapes
  19. I. New Hampshire
  20. II. Virginia
  21. III. USK
  22. Two Choruses from ‘The Rock’
  23. About the Author