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Archive for June, 2008

When I Heard at the Close of Day

When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d;
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy;
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The Real Work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

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The Waste Land

[“I saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her ‘Sibyl, what do you want?’ that one replied ‘I want to die’.]

For Ezra Pound,
il miglior fabbro. [the better craftsman]

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
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The night George Bush won his second Presidential campaign, I was listening to the returns on the radio with a friend. A voice came over the radio I hadn’t heard before. I didn’t know who he was or if he was a Democrat or a Republican, but I turned around and said, “That man would make a good President.”

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A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune!
As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I:
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