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    The Poems of T. S. Eliot Volume I

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      And guesses and supposes.

      And over there my Paladins

      15

      Are talking of effect and cause,

      With ‘learn to live by nature’s laws!’

      And ‘strive for social happiness

      And contact with your fellow-men

      In Reason: nothing to excess!’

      20

      As one leaves off the next begins.

      And one, a lady with a fan

      Cries to her waiting-maid discreet

      ‘Where shall I ever find the man!

      One who appreciates my soul;

      25

      I’d throw my heart beneath his feet.

      I’d give my life to his control.’

      (With more that I shall not repeat.)

      My marionettes (or so they say)

      Have these keen moments every day.

      [Commentary I 1081–84 · Textual History II 568]

      Spleen

      Sunday: this satisfied procession

      Of definite Sunday faces;

      Bonnets, silk hats, and conscious graces

      In repetition that displaces

      5

      Your mental self-possession

      By this unwarranted digression.

      Evening, lights, and tea!

      Children and cats in the alley;

      Dejection unable to rally

      10

      Against this dull conspiracy.

      And Life, a little bald and gray,

      Languid, fastidious, and bland,

      Waits, hat and gloves in hand,

      Punctilious of tie and suit

      15

      (Somewhat impatient of delay)

      On the doorstep of the Absolute.

      First Debate between the Body and Soul

      The August wind is shambling down the street

      A blind old man who coughs and spits sputters

      Stumbling among the alleys and the gutters.

      He pokes and prods

      5

      With senile patience

      The withered leaves

      Of our sensations—

      [Commentary I 1084–86 · Textual History II 568–69]

      And yet devoted to the pure idea

      One sits delaying in the vacant square

      10

      Forced to endure the blind inconscient stare

      Of twenty leering houses that exude

      The odour of their turpitude

      And a street piano through the dusty trees

      Insisting: ‘Make the best of your position’—

      15

      The pure Idea dies of inanition

      The street pianos through the trees

      Whine and wheeze

      Imaginations

      Masturbations

      20

      The withered leaves

      Of our sensations

      The eye retains the images,

      The sluggish brain will not react

      Nor distils

      25

      The dull precipitates of fact

      The emphatic mud of physical sense

      The cosmic smudge of an enormous thumb

      Posting bills

      On the soul. And always come

      30

      The whine and wheeze

      Of street pianos through the trees

      Imagination’s

      Poor Relations

      The withered leaves

      35

      Of our sensations.

      Absolute! complete idealist

      A supersubtle peasant

      (Conception most unpleasant)

      A supersubtle peasant in a shabby square

      40

      Assist me to the pure idea—

      Regarding nature without love or fear

      For a little while, a little while

      Standing our ground—

      Till life evaporates into a smile

      45

      Simple and profound.

      [Commentary I 1086–88 · Textual History II 569–70]

      Street pianos through the trees

      Whine and wheeze

      Imagination’s

      Defecations

      50

      The withered leaves

      Of our sensations—

      Easter: Sensations of April

      [I]

      The little negro girl who lives across the alley

      Brings back a red geranium from church;

      She repeats her little formulae of God.

      Geraniums, geraniums

      5

      On a third-floor window sill.

      Their perfume comes

      With the smell of heat

      From the asphalt street.

      Geraniums geraniums

      10

      Withered and dry

      Long laid by

      In the sweepings of the memory.

      The little negro girl across the alley

      Brings a geranium from Sunday school

      [Commentary I 1088–91 · Textual History II 570]

      II

      Daffodils

      Long yellow sunlight fills

      The cool secluded room

      Swept and set in order—

      5

      Smelling of earth and rain.

      And again

      The insistent sweet perfume

      And the impressions it preserves

      Irritate the imagination

      10

      Or the nerves.

      Ode

      THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT

      For the hour that is left us Fair Harvard, with thee,

      Ere we face the importunate years,

      In thy shadow we wait, while thy presence dispels

      Our vain hesitations and fears.

      5

      And we turn as thy sons ever turn, in the strength

      Of the hopes that thy blessings bestow,

      From the hopes and ambitions that sprang at thy feet

      To the thoughts of the past as we go.

      Yet for all of these years that to-morrow has lost

      10

      We are still the less able to grieve,

      With so much that of Harvard we carry away

      In the place of the life that we leave.

      And only the years that efface and destroy

      Give us also the vision to see

      15

      What we owe for the future, the present, and past,

      Fair Harvard, to thine and to thee.

      [Commentary I 1091–93 · Textual History II 570]

      Silence

      Along the city streets

      It is still high tide,

      Yet the garrulous waves of life

      Shrink and divide

      5

      With a thousand incidents

      Vexed and debated:—

      This is the hour for which we waited—

      This is the ultimate hour

      When life is justified.

      10

      The seas of experience

      That were so broad and deep,

      So immediate and steep,

      Are suddenly still.

      You may say what you will,

      15

      At such peace I am terrified.

      There is nothing else beside.

      Mandarins

      1

      Stands there, complete,

      Stiffly addressed with sword and fan:

      What of the crowds that ran,

      Pushed, stared, and huddled, at his feet,

      5

      Keen to appropriate the man?

      Indifferent to all these baits

      Of popular benignity

      He merely stands and waits

      Upon his own intrepid dignity;

      10

      With fixed regardless eyes—

      Looking neither out nor in—

      The centre of formalities.

      [Commentary I 1093–96 · Textual History II 571]

      A hero! and how much it means;

      How much—

      15

      The rest is merely shifting scenes.

      2


      Two ladies of uncertain age

      Sit by a window drinking tea

      (No persiflage!)

      With assured tranquillity

      5

      Regard

      A distant prospect of the sea.

      The outlines delicate and hard

      Of gowns that fall from neck and knee;

      Grey and yellow patterns move

      10

      From the shoulder to the floor.

      By attitude

      It would seem that they approve

      The abstract sunset (rich, not crude).

      And while one lifts her hand to pour

      15

      You have the other raise

      A thin translucent porcelain,

      Murmurs a word of praise.

      3

      The eldest of the mandarins,

      A stoic in obese repose,

      With intellectual double chins,

      Regards the corner of his nose;

      >

      [Commentary I 1096–99 · Textual History II 571]

      5

      The cranes that fly across a screen

      Pert, alert,

      Observe him with a frivolous mien—

      Indifferent idealist,

      World in fist,

      10

      Screen and cranes.

      And what of all that one has missed!

      And how life goes on different planes!

      4

      Still one more thought for pen and ink!

      (Though not indicative of spleen):

      How very few there are, I think

      Who see their outlines on the screen.

      5

      And so, I say, I find it good

      (Even if misunderstood)

      That demoiselles and gentlemen

      Walk out beneath the cherry trees,

      The goldwire dragons on their gowns

      10

      Expanded by the breeze.

      The conversation dignified

      Nor intellectual nor mean,

      And graceful, not too gay …

      And so I say

      15

      How life goes well in pink and green!

      [Commentary I 1100–1101 · Textual History II 571]

      Goldfish

      (Essence of Summer Magazines)

      I

      Always the August evenings come

      With preparation for the waltz

      The hot verandah making room

      For all the reminiscent tunes

      5

      —The Merry Widow and the rest—

      That call, recall

      So many nights and afternoons—

      August, with all its faults!

      And the waltzes turn, return;

      10

      The Chocolate Soldier assaults

      The tired Sphinx of the physical.

      What answer? We cannot discern.

      And the waltzes turn, return,

      Float and fall,

      15

      Like the cigarettes

      Of our marionettes

      Inconsequent, intolerable.

      II

      Embarquement pour Cythère

      Ladies, the moon is on its way!

      Is everybody here?

      And the sandwiches and ginger beer?

      If so, let us embark—

      5

      The night is anything but dark,

      Almost as clear as day.

      >

      [Commentary I 1101–1104 · Textual History II 571]

      It’s utterly illogical

      Our making such a start, indeed

      And thinking that we must return.

      10

      Oh no! why should we not proceed

      (As long as a cigarette will burn

      When you light it at the evening star)

      To porcelain land, what avatar

      Where blue-delft-romance is the law.

      15

      Philosophy through a paper straw!

      III

      On every sultry afternoon

      Verandah customs have the call

      White flannel ceremonial

      With cakes and tea

      5

      And guesses at eternal truths

      Sounding the depths with a silver spoon

      And dusty roses, crickets, sunlight on the sea And all.

      And should you ever hesitate

      10

      Among such charming scenes—

      Essence of summer magazines—

      Hesitate, and estimate

      How much is simple accident

      How much one knows

      15

      How much one means

      Well! among many apophthegms

      Here’s one that goes—

      Play to your conscience, through the maze

      Of means and ways

      20

      And wear the crown of your ideal

      Bays

      And rose.

      [Commentary I 1104–1106 · Textual History II 571–72]

      IV

      Among the débris of the year

      Of which the autumn takes its toll:—

      Old letters, programmes, unpaid bills

      Photographs, tennis shoes, and more,

      5

      Ties, postal cards, the mass that fills

      The limbo of a bureau drawer—

      Of which October takes its toll

      Among the débris of the year

      I find this headed ‘Barcarolle’.

      10

      ‘Along the wet paths of the sea

      A crowd of barking waves pursue

      Bearing what consequence to you

      And me.

      The neuropathic winds renew

      15

      Like marionettes who leave their graves

      Walking the waves

      Bringing the news from either Pole

      Or knowledge of the fourth dimension:

      ‘We beg to call to your attention

      20

      ‘Some minor problems of the soul.’

      —Your seamanship is very neat

      You scan the clouds, as if you knew,

      Your language nautical, complete;

      There’s nothing left for me to do.

      25

      And while you give the wheel a twist

      I gladly leave the rest to fate

      And contemplate

      The aged sybil in your eyes

      At the four crossroads of the world

      30

      Whose oracle replies:—

      ‘These problems seem importunate

      But after all do not exist.’

      [Commentary I 1106–1107 · Textual History II 572]

      Between the theoretic seas

      And your assuring certainties

      35

      I have my fears:

      —I am off for some Hesperides

      Of street pianos and small beers!

      Suite Clownesque

      I

      Across the painted colonnades

      Among the terra cotta fawns

      Among the potted palms, the lawns,

      The cigarettes and serenades

      5

      Here’s the comedian again

      With broad dogmatic vest, and nose

      Nose that interrogates the stars,

      Impressive, sceptic, scarlet nose;

      The most expressive, real of men,

      10

      A jellyfish impertinent,

      A jellyfish without repose.

      Leaning across the orchestra

      Just while he ponders, legs apart,

      His belly sparkling and immense:

      15

      It’s all philosophy and art.

      Nose that interrogates the stars

      Interrogates the audience

      Who still continue in suspense

      <

      [Commentary I 1107–10 · Textual History II 572]

      Who are so many entities

      20

      Inside a ring of lights!

      Here’s one who has the world at rights

      Here�
    �s one who gets away with it

      By simple spreading of the toes,

      A self-embodied rôle, his soul

      25

      Concentred in his vest and nose.

      II

      Each with a skirt just down to the ancle

      Everybody is under age

      Three on a side and one in the centre

      (Who would venture to be a dissenter)

      5

      Hello people!

      People, hello!

      Just while they linger shaking a finger

      Perched on stools in the middle of the stage:—

      ‘We’ve started out to take a walk

      10

      Each in a simple hat and gown,

      Seven little girls run away from school

      Now for a peek about the town.

      Here’s a street car—let’s jump in

      Oh see the soldiers—let’s descend.

      15

      When you’re out for an afternoon

      Find somebody with money to spend.

      But we’re perplexed.

      Hello people!

      Yes indeed we’re fearfully vexed;

      20

      People, hello!

      In trying to construe this text:

      “Where shall we go to next?”’

      [Commentary I 1110–11 · Textual History II 572]

      III

      If you’re walking down the avenue,

      Five o’clock in the afternoon,

      I may meet you

      Very likely greet you

      5

      Show you that I know you

      If you’re walking up Broadway

      Under the light of the silvery moon,

      You may find me

      All the girls behind me,

      10

      Euphorion of the modern time

     


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