Additional Poems By TS Eliot Essay Research

Extra Poems By T.S. Eliot Essay, Research Paper

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from Prufrock and Other Observations ( 1917 )

Portrayal of a Lady

Thou hast committed & # 8212 ;

Fornication: but that was in another state,

And besides, the dame is dead.

The

Jew of Malta.

I

AMONG the fume and fog of a December afternoon

You have the scene arrange itself & # 8212 ; as it will look to make & # 8212 ;

With “ I have saved this afternoon for you ” ;

And four wax tapers in the darkened room,

Four rings of light upon the ceiling operating expense,

An ambiance of Juliet & # 8217 ; s tomb

Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unexpressed.

We have been, allow us state, to hear the latest Pole

Convey the Preludes, through his hair and fingertips.

“ So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his psyche

Should be resurrected merely among friends

Some two or three, who will non touch the bloom

That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room. ”

& # 8212 ; And so the conversation faux pass

Among velleities and carefully caught declinations

Through attenuated tones of fiddles

Mingled with distant horns

And Begins.

“ You do non cognize how much they mean to me, my friends,

And how, how rare and unusual it is, to happen

In a life composed so much, so much of odds and terminals,

[ For so I do non love it… you cognize? you are non blind!

How acute you are! ]

To happen a friend who has these qualities,

Who has, and gives

Those qualities upon which friendly relationship lives.

How much it means that I say this to you & # 8212 ;

Without these friendly relationships & # 8212 ; life, what cauchemar! ”

Among the twists of the fiddles

And the ariettes

Of cracked horns

Inside my encephalon a dull tenor drum Begins

Absurdly hammering a preliminary of its ain,

Capricious drone

That is at least one definite “ false note. ”

& # 8212 ; Let us take the air, in a baccy enchantment,

Admire the memorials,

Discuss the late events,

Correct our tickers by the public redstem storksbills.

Then sit for half an hr and imbibe our bocks.

Two

Now that lilacs are in bloom

She has a bowl of lilacs in her room

And twists one in his fingers while she negotiations.

“ Ah, my friend, you do non cognize, you do non cognize

What life is, you who hold it in your custodies ” ;

( Slowly writhing the lilac chaffs )

“ You allow it flux from you, you let it flux,

And young person is barbarous, and has no compunction

And smilings at state of affairss which it can non see. ”

I smile, of class,

And travel on imbibing tea.

“ Yet with these April sundowns, that somehow remember

My inhumed life, and Paris in the Spring,

I feel immeasurably at peace, and happen the universe

To be fantastic and vernal, after all. ”

The voice returns like the repetitive out-of-tune

Of a broken fiddle on an August afternoon:

“ I am ever certain that you understand

My feelings, ever sure that you feel,

Certain that across the gulf you reach your manus.

You are invulnerable, you have no Achilles & # 8217 ; heel.

You will travel on, and when you have prevailed

You can state: at this point many a 1 has failed.

But what have I, but what have I, my friend,

To give you, what can you have from me?

Merely the friendly relationship and the understanding

Of one about to make her journey & # 8217 ; s terminal.

I shall sit here, functioning tea to friends & # 8230 ; . ”

I take my chapeau: how can I do a fearful damagess

For what she has said to me?

You will see me any forenoon in the park

Reading the cartoon strips and the clean page.

Particularly I remark

An English countess goes upon the phase.

A Greek was murdered at a Polish dance,

Another bank defaulter has confessed.

I keep my visage,

I remain collected

Except when a street piano, mechanical and tired

Reiterates some raddled common vocal

With the odor of jacinths across the garden

Remembering things that other people have desired.

Are these thoughts right or wrong?

Three

The October dark comes down ; returning as before

Except for a little esthesis of being ill at easiness

I mount the stepss and turn the grip of the door

And experience as if I had mounted on my custodies and articulatio genuss.

“ And so you are traveling abroad ; and when do you return?

But that & # 8217 ; s a useless inquiry.

You barely know when you are coming back,

You will happen so much to larn. ”

My smiling falls to a great extent among the bric- ? -brac.

“ Possibly you can compose to me. ”

My self-control flares up for a 2nd ;

This is as I had reckoned.

“ I have been inquiring often of late

( But our beginnings ne’er know our terminals! )

Why we have non developed into friends. ”

I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall note

Suddenly, his look in a glass.

My self-control troughs ; we are truly in the dark.

“ For everybody said so, all our friends,

They all were certain our feelings would associate

So closely! I myself can barely understand.

We must go forth it now to destine.

You will compose, at any rate.

Possibly it is non excessively late.

I shall sit here, functioning tea to friends. ”

And I must borrow every changing form

To happen look & # 8230 ; dance, dance

Like a dancing bear,

Cry like a parrot, yak like an ape.

Let us take the air, in a baccy enchantment & # 8212 ;

Well! and what if she should decease some afternoon,

Afternoon Grey and smoky, flushing xanthous and rose ;

Should decease and go forth me sitting pen in manus

With the fume coming down above the housetops ;

Doubtful, for a piece

Not cognizing what to experience or if I understand

Or whether wise or foolish, belated or excessively shortly & # 8230 ;

Would she non hold the advantage, after all?

This music is successful with a “ deceasing autumn ”

Now that we talk of deceasing & # 8212 ;

And should I have the right to smile?

Preliminaries

I

THE winter eventide settees down

With odor of steaks in passageways.

Six o & # 8217 ; clock.

The burned-out terminals of smoky yearss.

And now a gusty shower wraps

The grimy garbages

Of withered foliages about your pess

And newspapers from vacant tonss ;

The showers beat

On broken blinds and chimney-pots,

And at the corner of the street

A alone cab-horse steams and casts.

And so the lighting of the lamps.

Two

The forenoon comes to consciousness

Of weak stale odors of beer

From the sawdust-trampled street

With all its boggy pess that imperativeness

To early coffee-stands.

With the other masks

That clip resumes,

One thinks of all the custodies

That are raising dingy sunglassess

In a 1000 furnished suites.

Three

You tossed a cover from the bed,

You lay upon your dorsum, and waited ;

You dozed, and watched the dark uncovering

The 1000 sordid images

Of which your psyche was constituted ;

They flickered against the ceiling.

And when all the universe came back

And the visible radiation crept up between the shutters

And you heard the sparrows in the troughs,

You had such a vision of the street

As the street barely understands ;

Siting along the bed & # 8217 ; s border, where

You curled the documents from your hair,

Or clasped the xanthous colloidal suspensions of pess

In the thenar of both dirty custodies.

Four

His psyche stretched tight across the skies

That fade behind a metropolis block,

Or trampled by repetitive pess

At four and five and six O & # 8217 ; clock ;

And short square fingers stuffing pipes,

And flushing newspapers, and eyes

Assured of certain certainties,

The scruples of a blackened street

Impatient to presume the universe.

I am moved by illusions that are curled

Around these images, and cling:

The impression of some boundlessly soft

Boundlessly enduring thing.

Wipe your manus a

traverse your oral cavity, and laugh ;

The universes revolve like ancient adult females

Gathering fuel in vacant tonss.

Rhapsody on a Windy Night

TWELVE o & # 8217 ; clock.

Along the ranges of the street

Held in a lunar synthesis,

Whispering lunar conjurations

Dissolve the floors of memory

And all its clear dealingss

Its divisions and precisenesss,

Every street lamp that I pass

Beat generations like a fatalistic membranophone,

And through the infinites of the dark

Midnight shakes the memory

As a lunatic shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,

The street-lamp sputtered,

The street-lamp muttered,

The street-lamp said, “ Regard that adult female

Who hesitates toward you in the visible radiation of the door

Which opens on her like a smile.

You see the boundary line of her frock

Is lacerate and stained with sand,

And you see the corner of her oculus

Turns like a crooked pin. ”

The memory throws up high and dry

A crowd of distorted things ;

A distorted subdivision upon the beach

Eaten smooth, and polished

As if the universe gave up

The secret of its skeleton,

Stiff and white.

A broken spring in a mill pace,

Rust that clings to the signifier that the strength has left

Hard and curled and ready to snarl.

Half-past two,

The street-lamp said,

“ Note the cat which flattens itself in the trough,

Slips out its lingua

And devours a morsel of rancid butter. ”

So the manus of the kid, automatic,

Slipped out and pocketed a plaything that was running along the quay.

I could see nil behind that kid & # 8217 ; s oculus.

I have seen eyes in the street

Trying to peer through lit shutters,

And a crab one afternoon in a pool,

An old crab with cirripeds on his dorsum,

Gripped the terminal of a stick which I held him.

Half-past three,

The lamp sputtered,

The lamp muttered in the dark.

The lamp hummed:

“ See the Moon,

La lune ne garde aucune rancune,

She winks a lame oculus,

She smiles into corners.

She smooths the hair of the grass.

The Moon has lost her memory.

A exhausted variola cracks her face,

Her manus twists a paper rose,

That smells of dust and eau de Cologne,

She is entirely

With all the old nocturnal odors

That cross and cross across her encephalon. ”

The reminiscence comes

Of cloud-covered dry geraniums

And dust in crannies,

Smells of chestnuts in the streets,

And female odors in shuttered suites,

And coffin nails in corridors

And cocktail odors in bars.

The lamp said,

“ Four O & # 8217 ; clock,

Here is the figure on the door.

Memory!

You have the key,

The small lamp spreads a ring on the step.

Mount.

The bed is unfastened ; the tooth-brush bents on the wall,

Put your places at the door, slumber, prepare for life. ”

The last turn of the knife.

from Poems ( 1920 )

Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar

Tra-la-la-la-la-la-laire & # 8211 ; nil nisi divinum stabile Eastern Time ;

caetera fumus & # 8211 ; the gondola stopped, the old castle was

at that place, how capturing its Grey and tap & # 8211 ; caprine animals and

monkeys, with such hair excessively! & # 8211 ; so the countess passed on

until she came through the small park, where Niobe

presented her with a cabinet, and so bygone.

BURBANK crossed a small span

Descending at a little hotel ;

Princess Volupine arrived,

They were together, and he fell.

Defunctive music under sea

Passed seaward with the passing bell

Slowly: the God Hercules

Had left him, that had loved him good.

The Equus caballuss, under the axletree

Beat up the morning from Istria

With even pess. Her shuttered flatboat

Burned on the H2O all the twenty-four hours.

But this or such was Bleistein & # 8217 ; s manner:

A saggy bending of the articulatio genuss

And cubituss, with the thenars turned out,

Chicago Semite Viennese.

A lackluster protrusive oculus

Stares from the protozoic sludge

At a position of Canaletto.

The smoky candle terminal of clip

Declines. On the Rialto one time.

The rats are underneath the hemorrhoids.

The Jew is underneath the batch.

Money in pelt. The boater smiles,

Princess Volupine extends

A meagre, blue-nailed, phthisic manus

To mount the waterstair. Lights, visible radiations,

She entertains Sir Ferdinand

Klein. Who clipped the king of beasts & # 8217 ; s wings

And flea & # 8217 ; d his hindquarters and pared his claws?

Thought Burbank, chew overing on

Time & # 8217 ; s ruins, and the seven Torahs.

Sweeney Erect

And

the trees about me,

Let them be dry and leafless ; allow the stones

Groan with continual rushs ; and behind me

Make all a devastation. Look, expression, dames!

PAINT me a cavernous waste shore

Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,

Paint me the bold anfractuous stones

Faced by the knotty and yiping seas.

Display me Aeolus above

Reviewing the insurrectionist gales

Which tangle Ariadne & # 8217 ; s hair

And swell with hastiness the perjured canvass.

Morning stirs the pess and custodies

( Nausicaa and Polypheme ) .

Gesture of orang-outang

Rises from the sheets in steam.

This withered root of knots of hair

Slitted below and gashed with eyes,

This egg-shaped O cropped out with dentitions:

The sickle gesture from the thighs

Jackknifes upward at the articulatio genuss

Then straightens out from heel to hip

Pushing the model of the bed

And clawing at the pillow faux pas.

Sweeney addressed full length to shave

Broadbottomed, pink from scruff to establish,

Knows the female disposition

And wipes the lather around his face.

( The lengthened shadow of a adult male

Is history, said Emerson

Who had non seen the silhouette

Of Sweeney straddled in the Sun. )

Tests the razor on his leg

Waiting until the scream subsides.

The epileptic on the bed

Curves rearward, seizing at her sides.

The ladies of the corridor

Find themselves involved, disgraced,

Name informant to their rules

And deprecate the deficiency of gustatory sensation

Detecting that craze

Might easy be misunderstood ;

Mrs. Turner confidants

It does the house no kind of good.

But Doris, towelled from the bath,

Enters embroidering on wide pess,

Bringing sal volatile

And a glass of brandy neat.

Sweeney among the Nightingales

APENECK SWEENEY spreads his articulatio genuss

Leting his weaponries hang down to laugh,

The zebra stripes along his jaw

Swelling to tarnish camelopard.

The circles of the stormy Moon

Slide westward toward the River Plate,

Death and the Raven impetus above

And Sweeney guards the horn? 500 gate.

Gloomy Orion and the Dog

Are veiled ; and hushed the shriveled seas ;

The individual in the Spanish ness

Attempts to sit on Sweeney & # 8217 ; s articulatio genuss

Slips and pulls the tabular array fabric

Overturns a coffee-cup,

Reorganised upon the floor

She oscitances and draws a carrying up ;

The soundless adult male in mocha brown

Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes ;

The server brings in oranges

Bananas figs and conservatory grapes ;

The soundless craniate in brown

Contracts and dressed ores, withdraws ;

Rachel n? vitamin E Rabinovitch

Cryings at the grapes with homicidal paws ;

She and the lady in the ness

Are fishy, thought to be in conference ;

Therefore the adult male with heavy eyes

Declines the ploy, shows weariness,

Leaves the room and reappears

Outside the window, tilting in,

Branchs of wisteria

Circumscribe a aureate smile ;

The host with person indistinct

Converses at the door apart,

The Luscinia megarhynchoss are singing near

The Convent of the Sacred Heart,

And American ginseng within the bloody wood

When Agamemnon cried aloud,

And allow their liquid winnows autumn

To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.