Ezra Pound

Be in me as the eternal moodsof the bleak wind, and notAs transient things are—gaiety of flowers.Have me in the strong lonelinessof sunless cliffsAnd of gray waters.Let the gods speak softly of usIn days hereafter,the shadowy flowers of OrcusRemember thee.

Be in me as the eternal moods

of the bleak wind, and not

As transient things are—

gaiety of flowers.

Have me in the strong loneliness

of sunless cliffs

And of gray waters.

Let the gods speak softly of us

In days hereafter,

the shadowy flowers of Orcus

Remember thee.

See, they return; ah, see the tentativeMovements, and the slow feet,The trouble in the pace and the uncertainWavering!See, they return, one, and by one,With fear, as half-awakened;As if the snow should hesitateAnd murmur in the wind,and half turn back;These were the “Wing’d-with-Awe,”inviolable.Gods of that wingèd shoe!With them the silver hounds,sniffing the trace of air!Haie! Haie!These were the swift to harry;These the keen-scented;These were the souls of blood.Slow on the leash,pallid the leash-men!

See, they return; ah, see the tentativeMovements, and the slow feet,The trouble in the pace and the uncertainWavering!

See, they return; ah, see the tentative

Movements, and the slow feet,

The trouble in the pace and the uncertain

Wavering!

See, they return, one, and by one,With fear, as half-awakened;As if the snow should hesitateAnd murmur in the wind,and half turn back;These were the “Wing’d-with-Awe,”inviolable.

See, they return, one, and by one,

With fear, as half-awakened;

As if the snow should hesitate

And murmur in the wind,

and half turn back;

These were the “Wing’d-with-Awe,”

inviolable.

Gods of that wingèd shoe!With them the silver hounds,sniffing the trace of air!

Gods of that wingèd shoe!

With them the silver hounds,

sniffing the trace of air!

Haie! Haie!These were the swift to harry;These the keen-scented;These were the souls of blood.

Haie! Haie!

These were the swift to harry;

These the keen-scented;

These were the souls of blood.

Slow on the leash,pallid the leash-men!

Slow on the leash,

pallid the leash-men!

PICCADILLY

Beautiful, tragical faces—Ye that were whole, and are so sunken;And, O ye vile, ye that might have been loved,That are so sodden and drunken,Who hath forgotten you?O wistful, fragile faces, few out of many!The crass, the coarse, the brazen,God knows I cannot pity them, perhaps, as I should do;But oh, ye delicate, wistful faces,Who hath forgotten you?

Beautiful, tragical faces—Ye that were whole, and are so sunken;And, O ye vile, ye that might have been loved,That are so sodden and drunken,Who hath forgotten you?

Beautiful, tragical faces—

Ye that were whole, and are so sunken;

And, O ye vile, ye that might have been loved,

That are so sodden and drunken,

Who hath forgotten you?

O wistful, fragile faces, few out of many!

The crass, the coarse, the brazen,God knows I cannot pity them, perhaps, as I should do;But oh, ye delicate, wistful faces,Who hath forgotten you?

The crass, the coarse, the brazen,

God knows I cannot pity them, perhaps, as I should do;

But oh, ye delicate, wistful faces,

Who hath forgotten you?

My City, my beloved, my white!Ah, slender,Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.Delicately upon the reed, attend me!Now do I know that I am mad,For here are a million people surly with traffic;This is no maid.Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.My City, my beloved,Thou art a maid with no breasts,Thou art slender as a silver reed.Listen to me, attend me!And I will breathe into thee a soul,And thou shalt live for ever.

My City, my beloved, my white!Ah, slender,Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.Delicately upon the reed, attend me!

My City, my beloved, my white!

Ah, slender,

Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.

Delicately upon the reed, attend me!

Now do I know that I am mad,For here are a million people surly with traffic;This is no maid.Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.

Now do I know that I am mad,

For here are a million people surly with traffic;

This is no maid.

Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.

My City, my beloved,Thou art a maid with no breasts,Thou art slender as a silver reed.Listen to me, attend me!And I will breathe into thee a soul,And thou shalt live for ever.

My City, my beloved,

Thou art a maid with no breasts,

Thou art slender as a silver reed.

Listen to me, attend me!

And I will breathe into thee a soul,

And thou shalt live for ever.

THE COMING OF WAR: ACTAEON

An image of Lethe,and the fieldsFull of faint lightbut golden,Gray cliffs,and beneath themA seaHarsher than granite,unstill, never ceasing;High formswith the movement of gods,Perilous aspect;And one said:“This is Actaeon.”Actaeon of golden greaves!Over fair meadows,Over the cool face of that field,Unstill, ever moving,Host of an ancient people,The silent cortège.

An image of Lethe,and the fieldsFull of faint lightbut golden,Gray cliffs,and beneath themA seaHarsher than granite,unstill, never ceasing;

An image of Lethe,

and the fields

Full of faint light

but golden,

Gray cliffs,

and beneath them

A sea

Harsher than granite,

unstill, never ceasing;

High formswith the movement of gods,Perilous aspect;And one said:“This is Actaeon.”Actaeon of golden greaves!

High forms

with the movement of gods,

Perilous aspect;

And one said:

“This is Actaeon.”

Actaeon of golden greaves!

Over fair meadows,Over the cool face of that field,Unstill, ever moving,Host of an ancient people,The silent cortège.

Over fair meadows,

Over the cool face of that field,

Unstill, ever moving,

Host of an ancient people,

The silent cortège.

En robe de parade. SamainLike a skein of loose silk blown against a wallShe walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,And she is dying piece-mealof a sort of emotional anemia.And round about there is a rabbleOf the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.They shall inherit the earth.In her is the end of breeding.Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.She would like some one to speak to her,And is almost afraid that Iwill commit that indiscretion.

En robe de parade. Samain

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wallShe walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,And she is dying piece-mealof a sort of emotional anemia.

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall

She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,

And she is dying piece-meal

of a sort of emotional anemia.

And round about there is a rabbleOf the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.They shall inherit the earth.

And round about there is a rabble

Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.

They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.

In her is the end of breeding.

Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.

She would like some one to speak to her,And is almost afraid that Iwill commit that indiscretion.

She would like some one to speak to her,

And is almost afraid that I

will commit that indiscretion.

How have I labored?How have I not laboredTo bring her soul to birth,To give these elements a name and a centre!She is beautiful as the sunlight, and as fluid.She has no name, and no place.How have I labored to bring her soul into separation;To give her a name and her being!Surely you are bound and entwined,You are mingled with the elements unborn;I have loved a stream and a shadow.I beseech you enter your life.I beseech you learn to say “I”When I question you:For you are no part, but a whole;No portion, but a being.

How have I labored?How have I not laboredTo bring her soul to birth,To give these elements a name and a centre!

How have I labored?

How have I not labored

To bring her soul to birth,

To give these elements a name and a centre!

She is beautiful as the sunlight, and as fluid.She has no name, and no place.How have I labored to bring her soul into separation;To give her a name and her being!

She is beautiful as the sunlight, and as fluid.

She has no name, and no place.

How have I labored to bring her soul into separation;

To give her a name and her being!

Surely you are bound and entwined,You are mingled with the elements unborn;I have loved a stream and a shadow.

Surely you are bound and entwined,

You are mingled with the elements unborn;

I have loved a stream and a shadow.

I beseech you enter your life.I beseech you learn to say “I”When I question you:For you are no part, but a whole;No portion, but a being.

I beseech you enter your life.

I beseech you learn to say “I”

When I question you:

For you are no part, but a whole;

No portion, but a being.

It is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies,But for all that I have seen you on a high, white, noble horse,Like some strange queen in a story.It is odd that you should be covered with long robes and trailing tendrils and flowers;It is odd that you should be changing your face and resembling some other woman to plague me;It is odd that you should be hiding yourself in the cloud of beautiful women, who do not concern me.And I, who follow every seed-leaf upon the wind!They will say that I deserve this.

It is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies,But for all that I have seen you on a high, white, noble horse,Like some strange queen in a story.

It is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies,

But for all that I have seen you on a high, white, noble horse,

Like some strange queen in a story.

It is odd that you should be covered with long robes and trailing tendrils and flowers;It is odd that you should be changing your face and resembling some other woman to plague me;It is odd that you should be hiding yourself in the cloud of beautiful women, who do not concern me.

It is odd that you should be covered with long robes and trailing tendrils and flowers;

It is odd that you should be changing your face and resembling some other woman to plague me;

It is odd that you should be hiding yourself in the cloud of beautiful women, who do not concern me.

And I, who follow every seed-leaf upon the wind!They will say that I deserve this.

And I, who follow every seed-leaf upon the wind!

They will say that I deserve this.

Come let us pity those who are better off than we are.Come, my friend, and rememberthat the rich have butlers and no friends,And we have friends and no butlers.Come let us pity the married and the unmarried.Dawn enters with little feetlike a gilded Pavlova,And I am near my desire.Nor has life in it aught betterThan this hour of clear coolness,the hour of waking together.

Come let us pity those who are better off than we are.

Come, my friend, and remember

that the rich have butlers and no friends,

And we have friends and no butlers.

Come let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feetlike a gilded Pavlova,And I am near my desire.Nor has life in it aught betterThan this hour of clear coolness,the hour of waking together.

Dawn enters with little feet

like a gilded Pavlova,

And I am near my desire.

Nor has life in it aught better

Than this hour of clear coolness,

the hour of waking together.

For the Marriage in Cana of Galilee

Dark-eyed,O woman of my dreams,Ivory sandaled,There is none like thee among the dancers,None with swift feet.I have not found thee in the tents,In the broken darkness.I have not found thee at the well-headAmong the women with pitchers.Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark;Thy face as a river with lights.White as an almond are thy shoulders;As new almonds stripped from the husk.They guard thee not with eunuchs;Not with bars of copper.Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest.A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in patterns, hast thou gathered about thee,O Nathat-Ikanaie, “Tree-at-the-river.”As a rillet among the sedge are thy hands upon me;Thy fingers a frosted stream.Thy maidens are white like pebbles;Their music about thee!There is none like thee among the dancers;None with swift feet.

Dark-eyed,O woman of my dreams,Ivory sandaled,There is none like thee among the dancers,None with swift feet.

Dark-eyed,

O woman of my dreams,

Ivory sandaled,

There is none like thee among the dancers,

None with swift feet.

I have not found thee in the tents,In the broken darkness.I have not found thee at the well-headAmong the women with pitchers.

I have not found thee in the tents,

In the broken darkness.

I have not found thee at the well-head

Among the women with pitchers.

Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark;Thy face as a river with lights.

Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark;

Thy face as a river with lights.

White as an almond are thy shoulders;As new almonds stripped from the husk.

White as an almond are thy shoulders;

As new almonds stripped from the husk.

They guard thee not with eunuchs;Not with bars of copper.Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest.A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in patterns, hast thou gathered about thee,O Nathat-Ikanaie, “Tree-at-the-river.”

They guard thee not with eunuchs;

Not with bars of copper.

Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest.

A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in patterns, hast thou gathered about thee,

O Nathat-Ikanaie, “Tree-at-the-river.”

As a rillet among the sedge are thy hands upon me;Thy fingers a frosted stream.

As a rillet among the sedge are thy hands upon me;

Thy fingers a frosted stream.

Thy maidens are white like pebbles;Their music about thee!

Thy maidens are white like pebbles;

Their music about thee!

There is none like thee among the dancers;None with swift feet.

There is none like thee among the dancers;

None with swift feet.

Ed eran due in uno, ed uno in due. Inferno, XXVIII, 125.

I loved a woman. The stars fell from heaven.And always our two natures were in strife.Bewildering spring, and by the AuvezèrePoppies and day’s eyes in the green émailRose over us; and we knew all that stream,And our two horses had traced out the valleys;Knew the low flooded lands squared out with poplars,In the young days when the deep sky befriended.And great wings beat above us in the twilight,And the great wheels in heavenBore us together ... surging ... and apart ...Believing we should meet with lips and hands.High, high and sure ... and then the counterthrust:“Why do you love me? Will you always love me?But I am like the grass, I can not love you.”Or, “Love, and I love and love you,And hate your mind, notyou, your soul, your hands.”So to this last estrangement, Tairiran!There shut up in his castle, Tairiran’s,She who had nor ears nor tongue save in her hands,Gone—ah, gone—untouched, unreachable!She who could never live save through one person,She who could never speak save to one person,And all the rest of her a shifting change,A broken bundle of mirrors ... !

I loved a woman. The stars fell from heaven.

And always our two natures were in strife.

Bewildering spring, and by the Auvezère

Poppies and day’s eyes in the green émail

Rose over us; and we knew all that stream,

And our two horses had traced out the valleys;

Knew the low flooded lands squared out with poplars,

In the young days when the deep sky befriended.

And great wings beat above us in the twilight,

And the great wheels in heaven

Bore us together ... surging ... and apart ...

Believing we should meet with lips and hands.

High, high and sure ... and then the counterthrust:“Why do you love me? Will you always love me?But I am like the grass, I can not love you.”Or, “Love, and I love and love you,And hate your mind, notyou, your soul, your hands.”

High, high and sure ... and then the counterthrust:

“Why do you love me? Will you always love me?

But I am like the grass, I can not love you.”

Or, “Love, and I love and love you,

And hate your mind, notyou, your soul, your hands.”

So to this last estrangement, Tairiran!

There shut up in his castle, Tairiran’s,She who had nor ears nor tongue save in her hands,Gone—ah, gone—untouched, unreachable!She who could never live save through one person,She who could never speak save to one person,And all the rest of her a shifting change,A broken bundle of mirrors ... !

There shut up in his castle, Tairiran’s,

She who had nor ears nor tongue save in her hands,

Gone—ah, gone—untouched, unreachable!

She who could never live save through one person,

She who could never speak save to one person,

And all the rest of her a shifting change,

A broken bundle of mirrors ... !

Sing we for love and idleness,Naught else is worth the having.Though I have been in many a land,There is naught else in living.And I would rather have my sweet,Though rose-leaves die of grieving,Than do high deeds in HungaryTo pass all men’s believing.

Sing we for love and idleness,Naught else is worth the having.

Sing we for love and idleness,

Naught else is worth the having.

Though I have been in many a land,There is naught else in living.

Though I have been in many a land,

There is naught else in living.

And I would rather have my sweet,Though rose-leaves die of grieving,

And I would rather have my sweet,

Though rose-leaves die of grieving,

Than do high deeds in HungaryTo pass all men’s believing.

Than do high deeds in Hungary

To pass all men’s believing.

THE STUDY IN AESTHETICS

The very small children in patched clothing,Being smitten with an unusual wisdom,Stopped in their play as she passed themAnd cried up from their cobbles:Guarda! Ahi, guarda! ch’e b’ea!But three years after thisI heard the young Dante, whose last name I do not know—For there are, in Sirmione, twenty-eight young Dantes and thirty-four Catulli;And there had been a great catch of sardines,And his eldersWere packing them in the great wooden boxesFor the market in Brescia, and heLeapt about, snatching at the bright fishAnd getting in both of their ways;And in vain they commanded him tosta fermo!And when they would not let him arrangeThe fish in the boxesHe stroked those which were already arranged,Murmuring for his own satisfactionThis identical phrase:Ch’e b’ea.And at this I was mildly abashed.

The very small children in patched clothing,Being smitten with an unusual wisdom,Stopped in their play as she passed themAnd cried up from their cobbles:Guarda! Ahi, guarda! ch’e b’ea!

The very small children in patched clothing,

Being smitten with an unusual wisdom,

Stopped in their play as she passed them

And cried up from their cobbles:

Guarda! Ahi, guarda! ch’e b’ea!

But three years after thisI heard the young Dante, whose last name I do not know—For there are, in Sirmione, twenty-eight young Dantes and thirty-four Catulli;And there had been a great catch of sardines,And his eldersWere packing them in the great wooden boxesFor the market in Brescia, and heLeapt about, snatching at the bright fishAnd getting in both of their ways;And in vain they commanded him tosta fermo!And when they would not let him arrangeThe fish in the boxesHe stroked those which were already arranged,Murmuring for his own satisfactionThis identical phrase:Ch’e b’ea.

But three years after this

I heard the young Dante, whose last name I do not know—

For there are, in Sirmione, twenty-eight young Dantes and thirty-four Catulli;

And there had been a great catch of sardines,

And his elders

Were packing them in the great wooden boxes

For the market in Brescia, and he

Leapt about, snatching at the bright fish

And getting in both of their ways;

And in vain they commanded him tosta fermo!

And when they would not let him arrange

The fish in the boxes

He stroked those which were already arranged,

Murmuring for his own satisfaction

This identical phrase:

Ch’e b’ea.

And at this I was mildly abashed.

Come, my songs, let us express our baser passions.Let us express our envy for the man with a steady job and no worry about the future.You are very idle, my songs;I fear you will come to a bad end.You stand about the streets. You loiter at the corners and bus-stops,You do next to nothing at all.You do not even express our inner nobility;You will come to a very bad end.And I? I have gone half cracked.I have talked to you so much that I almost see you about me,Insolent little beasts! Shameless! Devoid of clothing!But you, newest song of the lot,You are not old enough to have done much mischief.I will get you a green coat out of ChinaWith dragons worked upon it.I will get you the scarlet silk trousersFrom the statue of the infant Christ at Santa Maria Novella;Lest they say we are lacking in taste,Or that there is no caste in this family.

Come, my songs, let us express our baser passions.Let us express our envy for the man with a steady job and no worry about the future.

Come, my songs, let us express our baser passions.

Let us express our envy for the man with a steady job and no worry about the future.

You are very idle, my songs;I fear you will come to a bad end.You stand about the streets. You loiter at the corners and bus-stops,You do next to nothing at all.You do not even express our inner nobility;You will come to a very bad end.

You are very idle, my songs;

I fear you will come to a bad end.

You stand about the streets. You loiter at the corners and bus-stops,

You do next to nothing at all.

You do not even express our inner nobility;

You will come to a very bad end.

And I? I have gone half cracked.I have talked to you so much that I almost see you about me,Insolent little beasts! Shameless! Devoid of clothing!

And I? I have gone half cracked.

I have talked to you so much that I almost see you about me,

Insolent little beasts! Shameless! Devoid of clothing!

But you, newest song of the lot,You are not old enough to have done much mischief.I will get you a green coat out of ChinaWith dragons worked upon it.I will get you the scarlet silk trousersFrom the statue of the infant Christ at Santa Maria Novella;

But you, newest song of the lot,

You are not old enough to have done much mischief.

I will get you a green coat out of China

With dragons worked upon it.

I will get you the scarlet silk trousers

From the statue of the infant Christ at Santa Maria Novella;

Lest they say we are lacking in taste,Or that there is no caste in this family.

Lest they say we are lacking in taste,

Or that there is no caste in this family.

II had over-prepared the event—that much was ominous.With middle-aging careI had laid out just the right books,I almost turned down the right pages.Beauty is so rare a thing ...So few drink of my fountain.So much barren regret!So many hours wasted!And now I watch from the windowrain, wandering busses.Their little cosmos is shaken—the air is alive with that fact.In their parts of the citythey are played on by diverse forces;I had over-prepared the event.Beauty is so rare a thing ...So few drink at my fountain.Two friends: a breath of the forest ...Friends? Are people less friendsbecause one has just, at last, found them?Twice they promised to come.“Between the night and morning?”Beauty would drink of my mind.Youth would awhile forgetmy youth is gone from me.Youth would hear speech of beauty.II(“Speak up! You have danced so stiffly?Someone admired your works,And said so frankly.“Did you talk like a fool,The first night?The second evening?”“Butthey promised again:‘Tomorrow at tea-time.’”)IIINow the third day is here—no word from either;No word from her nor him,Only another man’s note:“Dear Pound, I am leaving England.”

I had over-prepared the event—that much was ominous.With middle-aging careI had laid out just the right books,I almost turned down the right pages.

I had over-prepared the event—

that much was ominous.

With middle-aging care

I had laid out just the right books,

I almost turned down the right pages.

Beauty is so rare a thing ...So few drink of my fountain.

Beauty is so rare a thing ...

So few drink of my fountain.

So much barren regret!So many hours wasted!And now I watch from the windowrain, wandering busses.Their little cosmos is shaken—the air is alive with that fact.In their parts of the citythey are played on by diverse forces;

So much barren regret!

So many hours wasted!

And now I watch from the window

rain, wandering busses.

Their little cosmos is shaken—

the air is alive with that fact.

In their parts of the city

they are played on by diverse forces;

I had over-prepared the event.Beauty is so rare a thing ...So few drink at my fountain.

I had over-prepared the event.

Beauty is so rare a thing ...

So few drink at my fountain.

Two friends: a breath of the forest ...Friends? Are people less friendsbecause one has just, at last, found them?

Two friends: a breath of the forest ...

Friends? Are people less friends

because one has just, at last, found them?

Twice they promised to come.“Between the night and morning?”

Twice they promised to come.

“Between the night and morning?”

Beauty would drink of my mind.Youth would awhile forgetmy youth is gone from me.Youth would hear speech of beauty.

Beauty would drink of my mind.

Youth would awhile forget

my youth is gone from me.

Youth would hear speech of beauty.

(“Speak up! You have danced so stiffly?Someone admired your works,And said so frankly.

(“Speak up! You have danced so stiffly?

Someone admired your works,

And said so frankly.

“Did you talk like a fool,The first night?The second evening?”

“Did you talk like a fool,

The first night?

The second evening?”

“Butthey promised again:‘Tomorrow at tea-time.’”)

“Butthey promised again:

‘Tomorrow at tea-time.’”)

III

Now the third day is here—no word from either;No word from her nor him,Only another man’s note:“Dear Pound, I am leaving England.”

Now the third day is here—

no word from either;

No word from her nor him,

Only another man’s note:

“Dear Pound, I am leaving England.”

Simon Zelotes speaketh it somewhile after the Crucifixion.

Ha’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ allFor the priests and the gallows tree?Aye lover he was of brawny men,O’ ships and the open sea.When they came wi’ a host to take Our ManHis smile was good to see,“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spearsAnd the scorn of his laugh rang free,“Why took ye not me when I walked aboutAlone in the town?” says he.Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wineWhen we last made company.No capon priest was the Goodly Fere,But a man o’ men was he.I ha’ seen him drive a hundred menWi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,That they took the high and holy houseFor their pawn and treasury.They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,Though they write it cunningly;No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly FereBut aye loved the open sea.If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly FereThey are fools to the last degree.“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,“Though I go to the gallows tree.”“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,And wake the dead,” says he.“Ye shall see one thing to master all:’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”A son of God was the Goodly FereThat bade us his brothers be.I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men.I have seen him upon the tree.He cried no cry when they drave the nailsAnd the blood gushed hot and free.The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,But never a cry cried he.I ha’ seen him cow a thousand menOn the hills o’ Galilee.They whined as he walked out calm between,Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.Like the sea that brooks no voyaging,With the winds unleashed and free,Like the sea that he cowed at GenseretWi’ twey words spoke suddently.A master of men was the Goodly Fere,A mate of the wind and sea.If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly FereThey are fools eternally.I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-combSin’ they nailed him to the tree.

Ha’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ allFor the priests and the gallows tree?Aye lover he was of brawny men,O’ ships and the open sea.

Ha’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all

For the priests and the gallows tree?

Aye lover he was of brawny men,

O’ ships and the open sea.

When they came wi’ a host to take Our ManHis smile was good to see,“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.

When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man

His smile was good to see,

“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,

“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.

Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spearsAnd the scorn of his laugh rang free,“Why took ye not me when I walked aboutAlone in the town?” says he.

Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears

And the scorn of his laugh rang free,

“Why took ye not me when I walked about

Alone in the town?” says he.

Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wineWhen we last made company.No capon priest was the Goodly Fere,But a man o’ men was he.

Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wine

When we last made company.

No capon priest was the Goodly Fere,

But a man o’ men was he.

I ha’ seen him drive a hundred menWi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,That they took the high and holy houseFor their pawn and treasury.

I ha’ seen him drive a hundred men

Wi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,

That they took the high and holy house

For their pawn and treasury.

They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,Though they write it cunningly;No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly FereBut aye loved the open sea.

They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,

Though they write it cunningly;

No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere

But aye loved the open sea.

If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly FereThey are fools to the last degree.“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,“Though I go to the gallows tree.”

If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly Fere

They are fools to the last degree.

“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,

“Though I go to the gallows tree.”

“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,And wake the dead,” says he.“Ye shall see one thing to master all:’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”

“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,

And wake the dead,” says he.

“Ye shall see one thing to master all:

’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”

A son of God was the Goodly FereThat bade us his brothers be.I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men.I have seen him upon the tree.

A son of God was the Goodly Fere

That bade us his brothers be.

I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men.

I have seen him upon the tree.

He cried no cry when they drave the nailsAnd the blood gushed hot and free.The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,But never a cry cried he.

He cried no cry when they drave the nails

And the blood gushed hot and free.

The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,

But never a cry cried he.

I ha’ seen him cow a thousand menOn the hills o’ Galilee.They whined as he walked out calm between,Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.

I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men

On the hills o’ Galilee.

They whined as he walked out calm between,

Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.

Like the sea that brooks no voyaging,With the winds unleashed and free,Like the sea that he cowed at GenseretWi’ twey words spoke suddently.

Like the sea that brooks no voyaging,

With the winds unleashed and free,

Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret

Wi’ twey words spoke suddently.

A master of men was the Goodly Fere,A mate of the wind and sea.If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly FereThey are fools eternally.

A master of men was the Goodly Fere,

A mate of the wind and sea.

If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere

They are fools eternally.

I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-combSin’ they nailed him to the tree.

I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-comb

Sin’ they nailed him to the tree.

For God, our God, is a gallant foeThat playeth behind the veil.I have loved my God as a child at heartThat seeketh deep bosoms for rest,I have loved my God as maid to man—But lo, this thing is best:To love your God as a gallant foethat plays behind the veil,To meet your God as the night winds meetbeyond Arcturus’ pale.I have played with God for a woman,I have staked with my God for truth,I have lost to my God as a man, clear-eyed—His dice be not of ruth.For I am made as a naked blade,But hear ye this thing in sooth:Who loseth to God as man to manShall win at the turn of the game.I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meetBut the ending is the same:Who loseth to God as the sword blades loseShall win at the end of the game.For God, our God, is a gallant foethat playeth behind the veil.Whom God deigns not to overthrowhath need of triple mail.

For God, our God, is a gallant foeThat playeth behind the veil.

For God, our God, is a gallant foe

That playeth behind the veil.

I have loved my God as a child at heartThat seeketh deep bosoms for rest,I have loved my God as maid to man—But lo, this thing is best:

I have loved my God as a child at heart

That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,

I have loved my God as maid to man—

But lo, this thing is best:

To love your God as a gallant foethat plays behind the veil,To meet your God as the night winds meetbeyond Arcturus’ pale.

To love your God as a gallant foe

that plays behind the veil,

To meet your God as the night winds meet

beyond Arcturus’ pale.

I have played with God for a woman,I have staked with my God for truth,I have lost to my God as a man, clear-eyed—His dice be not of ruth.

I have played with God for a woman,

I have staked with my God for truth,

I have lost to my God as a man, clear-eyed—

His dice be not of ruth.

For I am made as a naked blade,But hear ye this thing in sooth:

For I am made as a naked blade,

But hear ye this thing in sooth:

Who loseth to God as man to manShall win at the turn of the game.I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meetBut the ending is the same:Who loseth to God as the sword blades loseShall win at the end of the game.For God, our God, is a gallant foethat playeth behind the veil.Whom God deigns not to overthrowhath need of triple mail.

Who loseth to God as man to man

Shall win at the turn of the game.

I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meet

But the ending is the same:

Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose

Shall win at the end of the game.

For God, our God, is a gallant foe

that playeth behind the veil.

Whom God deigns not to overthrow

hath need of triple mail.

Scene: The Ash Wood of Malvern

For I was a gaunt, grave councillor,Being in all things wise, and very old;But I have put aside this folly and the coldThat old age weareth for a cloak.I was quite strong—at least they said so—The young men at the sword-play;But I have put aside this folly, being gayIn another fashion that more suiteth me.I have curled mid the boles of the ash wood,I have hidden my face where the oakSpread his leaves over me, and the yokeOf the old ways of men have I cast aside.By the still pool of Mar-nan-othaHave I found me a brideThat was a dog-wood tree some syne.She hath called me from mine old ways;She hath hushed my rancor of council,Bidding me praiseNaught but the wind that flutters in the leaves.She hath drawn me from mine old ways,Till men say that I am mad;But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad,For I know that the wailing and bitterness are a folly.And I? I have put aside all folly and all grief.I wrapped my tears in an ellum leafAnd left them under a stone;And now men call me mad because I have thrownAll folly from me, putting it asideTo leave the old barren ways of men,Because my brideIs a pool of the wood; andThough all men say that I am madIt is only that I am glad—Very glad, for my bride hath toward me a great loveThat is sweeter than the love of womenThat plague and burn and drive one away.Aie-e! ’Tis true that I am gay,Quite gay, for I have her alone hereAnd no man troubleth us.Once when I was among the young men ...And they said I was quite strong, among the young men ...Once there was a woman ...... but I forget ... she was ...... I hope she will not come again.... I do not remember ...I think she hurt me once, but ...That was very long ago.I do not like to remember things any more.I like one little band of winds that blowIn the ash trees here:For we are quite alone,Here mid the ash trees.

For I was a gaunt, grave councillor,Being in all things wise, and very old;But I have put aside this folly and the coldThat old age weareth for a cloak.

For I was a gaunt, grave councillor,

Being in all things wise, and very old;

But I have put aside this folly and the cold

That old age weareth for a cloak.

I was quite strong—at least they said so—The young men at the sword-play;But I have put aside this folly, being gayIn another fashion that more suiteth me.

I was quite strong—at least they said so—

The young men at the sword-play;

But I have put aside this folly, being gay

In another fashion that more suiteth me.

I have curled mid the boles of the ash wood,I have hidden my face where the oakSpread his leaves over me, and the yokeOf the old ways of men have I cast aside.

I have curled mid the boles of the ash wood,

I have hidden my face where the oak

Spread his leaves over me, and the yoke

Of the old ways of men have I cast aside.

By the still pool of Mar-nan-othaHave I found me a brideThat was a dog-wood tree some syne.She hath called me from mine old ways;She hath hushed my rancor of council,Bidding me praise

By the still pool of Mar-nan-otha

Have I found me a bride

That was a dog-wood tree some syne.

She hath called me from mine old ways;

She hath hushed my rancor of council,

Bidding me praise

Naught but the wind that flutters in the leaves.

She hath drawn me from mine old ways,Till men say that I am mad;But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad,For I know that the wailing and bitterness are a folly.And I? I have put aside all folly and all grief.I wrapped my tears in an ellum leafAnd left them under a stone;And now men call me mad because I have thrownAll folly from me, putting it asideTo leave the old barren ways of men,Because my brideIs a pool of the wood; andThough all men say that I am madIt is only that I am glad—Very glad, for my bride hath toward me a great loveThat is sweeter than the love of womenThat plague and burn and drive one away.

She hath drawn me from mine old ways,

Till men say that I am mad;

But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad,

For I know that the wailing and bitterness are a folly.

And I? I have put aside all folly and all grief.

I wrapped my tears in an ellum leaf

And left them under a stone;

And now men call me mad because I have thrown

All folly from me, putting it aside

To leave the old barren ways of men,

Because my bride

Is a pool of the wood; and

Though all men say that I am mad

It is only that I am glad—

Very glad, for my bride hath toward me a great love

That is sweeter than the love of women

That plague and burn and drive one away.

Aie-e! ’Tis true that I am gay,Quite gay, for I have her alone hereAnd no man troubleth us.

Aie-e! ’Tis true that I am gay,

Quite gay, for I have her alone here

And no man troubleth us.

Once when I was among the young men ...And they said I was quite strong, among the young men ...Once there was a woman ...... but I forget ... she was ...... I hope she will not come again.

Once when I was among the young men ...

And they said I was quite strong, among the young men ...

Once there was a woman ...

... but I forget ... she was ...

... I hope she will not come again.

... I do not remember ...I think she hurt me once, but ...That was very long ago.

... I do not remember ...

I think she hurt me once, but ...

That was very long ago.

I do not like to remember things any more.

I like one little band of winds that blowIn the ash trees here:For we are quite alone,Here mid the ash trees.

I like one little band of winds that blow

In the ash trees here:

For we are quite alone,

Here mid the ash trees.

THE RIVER-MERCHANT’S WIFE: A LETTER

While my hair was still cut straight across my foreheadI played about the front gate, pulling flowers.You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse;You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.And we went on living in the village of Chokan:Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.At fourteen I married My Lord you.I never laughed, being bashful.Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.At fifteen I stopped scowling,I desired my dust to be mingled with yoursForever and forever, and forever.Why should I climb the look-out?At sixteen you departed,You went into far Ku-to-Yen, by the river of swirling eddies,And you have been gone five months.The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.You dragged your feet when you went out.By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,Too deep to clear them away!The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.The paired butterflies are already yellow with AugustOver the grass in the west garden—They hurt me.I grow older.If you are coming down through the narrows of the river,Please let me know beforehand,And I will come out to meet you,As far as Cho-fu-Sa.From the Chinese of Li Po.

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead

I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.

You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse;

You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.

And we went on living in the village of Chokan:

Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.I never laughed, being bashful.Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.

I never laughed, being bashful.

Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.

Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,I desired my dust to be mingled with yoursForever and forever, and forever.Why should I climb the look-out?

At fifteen I stopped scowling,

I desired my dust to be mingled with yours

Forever and forever, and forever.

Why should I climb the look-out?

At sixteen you departed,You went into far Ku-to-Yen, by the river of swirling eddies,And you have been gone five months.The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.You dragged your feet when you went out.By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,Too deep to clear them away!The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.The paired butterflies are already yellow with AugustOver the grass in the west garden—They hurt me.I grow older.If you are coming down through the narrows of the river,Please let me know beforehand,And I will come out to meet you,As far as Cho-fu-Sa.From the Chinese of Li Po.

At sixteen you departed,

You went into far Ku-to-Yen, by the river of swirling eddies,

And you have been gone five months.

The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

You dragged your feet when you went out.

By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,

Too deep to clear them away!

The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August

Over the grass in the west garden—

They hurt me.

I grow older.

If you are coming down through the narrows of the river,

Please let me know beforehand,

And I will come out to meet you,

As far as Cho-fu-Sa.

From the Chinese of Li Po.

EXILE’S LETTER

From the Chinese of Li Po, usually considered the greatest poet of China: written by him while in exile about 760 A. D., to the Hereditary War-Councillor of Sho, “recollecting former companionship.”

So-Kin of Rakuho, ancient friend, I now rememberThat you built me a special tavern,By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin.With yellow gold and white jewelswe paid for the songs and laughter,And we were drunk for month after month,forgetting the kings and princes.Intelligent men came drifting in, from the seaand from the west border,And with them, and with you especially,there was nothing at cross-purpose;And they made nothing of sea-crossingor of mountain-crossing,If only they could be of that fellowship.And we all spoke out our hearts and minds ...and without regret.And then I was sent off to South Wei,smothered in laurel groves,And you to the north of Raku-hoku,Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories between us.And when separation had come to its worstWe met, and travelled together into Sen-GoThrough all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters;Into a valley of a thousand bright flowers ...that was the first valley,And on into ten thousand valleysfull of voices and pine-winds.With silver harness and reins of gold,prostrating themselves on the ground,Out came the East-of-Kan foreman and his company;And there came also the “True-man” of Shi-yo to meet me,Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ.In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave usmore Sennin music;Many instruments, like the sound of young phœnix broods.And the foreman of Kan-Chu, drunk,Danced because his long sleevesWouldn’t keep still, with that music playing.And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap,And my spirit so high that it was all over the heavens.And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars or rain.I had to be off to So, far away over the waters,You back to your river-bridge.And your father, who was brave as a leopard,Was governor in Hei Shu and put down the barbarian rabble.And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance;And what with broken wheels and so on, I won’t say it wasn’t hard going ...Over roads twisted like sheep’s guts.And I was still going, late in the year,in the cutting wind from the north,And thinking how little you cared for the cost ...and you caring enough to pay it.Then what a reception!Red jade cups, food well set, on a blue jewelled table;And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning;And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle,To the dynastic temple, with the water about it clear as blue jade,With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums,With ripples like dragon-scales going grass-green on the water,Pleasure lasting, with courtezans going and coming without hindrance,With the willow-flakes falling like snow,And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset,And the waters a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows—Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight,Gracefully painted—and the girls singing back at each other,Dancing in transparent brocade,And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it,Tossing it up under the clouds.And all this comes to an end,And is not again to be met with.I went up to the court for examination,Tried Layu’s luck, offered the Choyu song,And got no promotion,And went back to the East Mountains white-headed.And once again we met, later, at the South Bridge head.And then the crowd broke up—you went north to San palace.And if you ask how I regret that parting?It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end,confused, whirled in a tangle.What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking—There is no end of things in the heart.I call in the boy,Have him sit on his knees to write and seal this,And I send it a thousand miles, thinking.

So-Kin of Rakuho, ancient friend, I now remember

That you built me a special tavern,

By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin.

With yellow gold and white jewels

we paid for the songs and laughter,

And we were drunk for month after month,

forgetting the kings and princes.

Intelligent men came drifting in, from the sea

and from the west border,

And with them, and with you especially,

there was nothing at cross-purpose;

And they made nothing of sea-crossing

or of mountain-crossing,

If only they could be of that fellowship.

And we all spoke out our hearts and minds ...

and without regret.

And then I was sent off to South Wei,

smothered in laurel groves,

And you to the north of Raku-hoku,

Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories between us.

And when separation had come to its worst

We met, and travelled together into Sen-Go

Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters;

Into a valley of a thousand bright flowers ...

that was the first valley,

And on into ten thousand valleys

full of voices and pine-winds.

With silver harness and reins of gold,

prostrating themselves on the ground,

Out came the East-of-Kan foreman and his company;

And there came also the “True-man” of Shi-yo to meet me,

Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ.

In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave us

more Sennin music;

Many instruments, like the sound of young phœnix broods.

And the foreman of Kan-Chu, drunk,

Danced because his long sleeves

Wouldn’t keep still, with that music playing.

And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap,

And my spirit so high that it was all over the heavens.

And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars or rain.I had to be off to So, far away over the waters,You back to your river-bridge.And your father, who was brave as a leopard,Was governor in Hei Shu and put down the barbarian rabble.And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance;And what with broken wheels and so on, I won’t say it wasn’t hard going ...Over roads twisted like sheep’s guts.And I was still going, late in the year,in the cutting wind from the north,And thinking how little you cared for the cost ...and you caring enough to pay it.Then what a reception!Red jade cups, food well set, on a blue jewelled table;And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning;And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle,To the dynastic temple, with the water about it clear as blue jade,With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums,With ripples like dragon-scales going grass-green on the water,Pleasure lasting, with courtezans going and coming without hindrance,With the willow-flakes falling like snow,And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset,And the waters a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows—Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight,Gracefully painted—and the girls singing back at each other,Dancing in transparent brocade,And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it,Tossing it up under the clouds.

And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars or rain.

I had to be off to So, far away over the waters,

You back to your river-bridge.

And your father, who was brave as a leopard,

Was governor in Hei Shu and put down the barbarian rabble.

And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance;

And what with broken wheels and so on, I won’t say it wasn’t hard going ...

Over roads twisted like sheep’s guts.

And I was still going, late in the year,

in the cutting wind from the north,

And thinking how little you cared for the cost ...

and you caring enough to pay it.

Then what a reception!

Red jade cups, food well set, on a blue jewelled table;

And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning;

And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle,

To the dynastic temple, with the water about it clear as blue jade,

With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums,

With ripples like dragon-scales going grass-green on the water,

Pleasure lasting, with courtezans going and coming without hindrance,

With the willow-flakes falling like snow,

And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset,

And the waters a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows—

Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight,

Gracefully painted—and the girls singing back at each other,

Dancing in transparent brocade,

And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it,

Tossing it up under the clouds.

And all this comes to an end,And is not again to be met with.I went up to the court for examination,Tried Layu’s luck, offered the Choyu song,And got no promotion,And went back to the East Mountains white-headed.

And all this comes to an end,

And is not again to be met with.

I went up to the court for examination,

Tried Layu’s luck, offered the Choyu song,

And got no promotion,

And went back to the East Mountains white-headed.

And once again we met, later, at the South Bridge head.And then the crowd broke up—you went north to San palace.And if you ask how I regret that parting?It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end,confused, whirled in a tangle.What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking—There is no end of things in the heart.

And once again we met, later, at the South Bridge head.

And then the crowd broke up—you went north to San palace.

And if you ask how I regret that parting?

It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end,

confused, whirled in a tangle.

What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking—

There is no end of things in the heart.

I call in the boy,Have him sit on his knees to write and seal this,And I send it a thousand miles, thinking.

I call in the boy,

Have him sit on his knees to write and seal this,

And I send it a thousand miles, thinking.

(Translated by Ezra Pound from the notes of the late Ernest Fenollosa, and the decipherings of the Professors Mori and Araga.)

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