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    The Poems of T. S. Eliot Volume I

    Page 9
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      And place is always and only place

      And what is actual is actual only for one time

      And only for one place

      20

      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

      25

      Upon which to rejoice

      [Commentary I 727–37 · Textual History II 421–26]

      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

      30

      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

      35

      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.

      40

      Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death

      Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

      [Commentary I 737–39 · Textual History II 426]

      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

      5

      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

      10

      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

      15

      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 The Lady is withdrawn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

      20

      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

      [Commentary I 739–45 · Textual History II 426–27]

      25

      Lady of silences

      Calm and distressed

      Torn and most whole

      Rose of memory

      Rose of forgetfulness

      30

      Exhausted and life-giving

      Worried reposeful

      The single Rose

      Is now the Garden

      Where all loves end

      35

      Terminate torment

      Of love unsatisfied

      The greater torment

      Of love satisfied

      End of the endless

      40

      Journey to no end

      Conclusion of all that

      Is inconclusible

      Speech without word and

      Word of no speech

      45

      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,

      50

      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.

      [Commentary I 745–46 · Textual History II 427]

      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

      5

      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,

      10

      Damp, jaggèd, like an old man’s mouth drivelling, beyond repair,

      Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

      At the first turning of the third stair

      Was a slotted window bellied like the fig’s fruit

      And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene

      15

      The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green

      Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.

      Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,

      Lilac and brown hair;

      Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,

      20

      Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair

      Climbing the third stair.

      Lord, I am not worthy

      Lord, I am not worthy

      but speak the word only.

      [Commentary I 746–47 · Textual History II 427–28]

      IV

      Who walked between the violet and the violet

      Who walked between

      The various ranks of varied green

      Going in white and blue, in Mary’s colour,

      5

      Talking of trivial things

      In ignorance and in knowledge of eternal dolour

      Who moved among the others as they walked,

      Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

      Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand

      10

      In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary’s colour,

      Sovegna vos

      Here are the years that walk between, bearing

      Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring

      One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

      15

      White light folded, sheathed about her, folded.

      The new years walk, restoring

      Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring

      With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem

      The time. Redeem

      20

      The unread vision in the higher dream

      While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

      The silent sister veiled in white and blue

      Between the yews, behind the garden god,

      Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

      >

      [Commentary I 748–50 · Textual History II 428–29]

      25

      But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down

      Redeem the time, redeem the dream

      The token of the word unheard, unspoken

      Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

      And after this our exile

      [Commentary I 750–51 · Textual History II 429]

      V

      If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent

      If the unheard, unspoken

      Word is unspoken, unheard;

      Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,

      5

      The W
    ord without a word, the Word within

      The world and for the world;

      And the light shone in darkness and

      Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled

      About the centre of the silent Word.

      10

      O my people, what have I done unto thee.

      Where shall the word be found, where will the word

      Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence

      Not on the sea or on the islands, not

      On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,

      15

      For those who walk in darkness

      Both in the day time and in the night time

      The right time and the right place are not here

      No place of grace for those who avoid the face

      No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

      20

      Will the veiled sister pray for

      Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,

      Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between

      Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait

      In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray

      25

      For children at the gate

      Who will not go away and cannot pray:

      Pray for those who chose and oppose

      [Commentary I 751–52 · Textual History II 429–30]

      O my people, what have I done unto thee.

      Will the veiled sister between the slender

      30

      Yew trees pray for those who offend her

      And are terrified and cannot surrender

      And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks

      In the last desert between the last blue rocks

      The desert in the garden the garden in the desert

      35

      Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

      O my people.

      [Commentary I 752 · Textual History II 430]

      VI

      Although I do not hope to turn again

      Although I do not hope

      Although I do not hope to turn

      Wavering between the profit and the loss

      5

      In this brief transit where the dreams cross

      The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying

      (Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things

      From the wide window towards the granite shore

      The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying

      10

      Unbroken wings

      And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices

      In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices

      And the weak spirit quickens to rebel

      For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell

      15

      Quickens to recover

      The cry of quail and the whirling plover

      And the blind eye creates

      The empty forms between the ivory gates

      And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

      20

      This is the time of tension between dying and birth

      The place of solitude where three dreams cross

      Between blue rocks

      But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away

      Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

      [Commentary I 753–54 · Textual History II 431]

      25

      Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,

      Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood

      Teach us to care and not to care

      Teach us to sit still

      Even among these rocks,

      30

      Our peace in His will

      And even among these rocks

      Sister, mother

      And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,

      Suffer me not to be separated

      35

      And let my cry come unto Thee.

      [Commentary I 754–56 · Textual History II 431]

      Ariel Poems

      Journey of the Magi

      ‘A cold coming we had of it,

      Just the worst time of the year

      For a journey, and such a long journey:

      The ways deep and the weather sharp,

      5

      The very dead of winter.’

      And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,

      Lying down in the melting snow.

      There were times we regretted

      The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

      10

      And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

      Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

      And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

      And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

      And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly

      15

      And the villages dirty and charging high prices:

      A hard time we had of it.

      At the end we preferred to travel all night,

      Sleeping in snatches,

      With the voices singing in our ears, saying

      20

      That this was all folly.

      Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

      Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation,

      With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

      And three trees on the low sky.

      25

      And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

      Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

      Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,

      And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.

      But there was no information, and so we continued

      30

      And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon

      Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

      [Commentary I 759–64 · Textual History II 433–34]

      All this was a long time ago, I remember,

      And I would do it again, but set down

      This set down

      35

      This: were we led all that way for

      Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

      We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

      But had thought they were different; this Birth was

      Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

      40

      We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

      But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

      With an alien people clutching their gods.

      I should be glad of another death.

      [Commentary I 764–65 · Textual History II 434]

      A Song for Simeon

      Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and

      The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;

      The stubborn season has made stand.

      My life is light, waiting for the death wind,

      5

      Like a feather on the back of my hand.

      Dust in sunlight and memory in corners

      Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.

      Grant us thy peace.

      I have walked many years in this city,

      10

      Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,

      Have given and taken honour and ease.

      There went never any rejected from my door.

      Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children’s children

      When the time of sorrow is come?

      15

      They will take to the goat’s path, and the fox’s home,

      Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords.

      Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation

      Grant us thy peace.

      Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,

      20

      Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,


      Now at this birth season of decease,

      Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,

      Grant Israel’s consolation

      To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

      [Commentary I 766–67 · Textual History II 434–35]

      25

      According to thy word.

      They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation

      With glory and derision,

      Light upon light, mounting the saints’ stair.

      Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,

      30

      Not for me the ultimate vision.

      Grant me thy peace.

      (And a sword shall pierce thy heart,

      Thine also.)

      I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,

      35

      I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.

      Let thy servant depart,

      Having seen thy salvation.

      [Commentary I 767–68 · Textual History II 435–36]

      Animula

      ‘Issues from the hand of God, the simple soul’

      To a flat world of changing lights and noise,

      To light, dark, dry or damp, chilly or warm;

      Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs,

      5

      Rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys,

      Advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm,

      Retreating to the corner of arm and knee,

      Eager to be reassured, taking pleasure

      In the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree,

      10

      Pleasure in the wind, the sunlight and the sea;

      Studies the sunlit pattern on the floor

      And running stags around a silver tray;

      Confounds the actual and the fanciful,

      Content with playing-cards and kings and queens,

      15

      What the fairies do and what the servants say.

     


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