How keen you are!] … "Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know What life is, you who hold it in your hands"; (Slowly twisting the lilac stalks) "You let it flow from you, you let it flow, And youth is cruel, and has no remorse And smiles at situations which it cannot see." The voice returns like the insistent out-of-tune Of a broken violin on an August afternoon: "I am always sure that you understand My feelings, always sure that you feel, Sure that across the gulf you reach your hand. Contents. You will write, at any rate. My smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac. You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—, He’s outwardly respectable. The Waste Land: Gerontion Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein … "I have been wondering frequently of late (But our beginnings never know our ends!) You hardly know when you are coming back, You will find so much to learn." "For everybody said so, all our friends, They all were sure our feelings would relate So closely! For a good biographical site on Eliot and some analysis of his poetry, go to the Academy of American Poet's website . © Academy of American Poets, 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038, Please listen to me and don’t scoff. —Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance, Admire the monuments, Discuss the late events, Correct our watches by the public clocks. "For everybody said so, all our friends, They all were sure our feelings would relate So closely! Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself—as it will seem to do— With "I have saved this afternoon for you"; And four wax candles in the darkened room, Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead, An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there! I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles. Particularly I remark An English countess goes upon the stage. The voice returns like the insistent out-of-tune Of a broken violin on an August afternoon: "I am always sure that you understand My feelings, always sure that you feel, Sure that across the gulf you reach your hand. "Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall My buried life, and Paris in the Spring, I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world To be wonderful and youthful, after all." Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair—. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake. | word play My self-possession flares up for a second; This is as I had reckoned. Gerontion . "Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall My buried life, and Paris in the Spring, I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world To be wonderful and youthful, after all." archive of classic poems Life Early life and education. Born in Missouri on September 26, 1888, T. S. Eliot is the author of The Waste Land, which is now considered by many to be the most influential poetic work of the twentieth century. All his, The greatest magicians have something to learn, He is always deceiving you into believing, You have seen it one moment, and then it is. And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire. discussion forums | find "You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, [For indeed I do not love it...you knew? And we all say: OH! "You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, [For indeed I do not love it...you knew? and what if she should die some afternoon, Afternoon grey and smoky, evening yellow and rose; Should die and leave me sitting pen in hand With the smoke coming down above the housetops; Doubtful, for a while Not knowing what to feel or if I understand Or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon... Would she not have the advantage, after all? Bleistein with a Cigar, M�lange adult�re I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark Suddenly, his expression in a glass. Eliot, the 1948 winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, is one of the giants of modern literature, highly distinguished as a poet, literary critic, dramatist, and editor and publisher. Eliot is examined. Away we go! Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake. His manner is vague and aloof,You would think there was nobody shyer—But his voice has been heard on the roofWhen he was curled up the fire.And he’s sometimes been heard by the fireWhen he was about on the roof—(At least we all heard somebody who purred)Which is incontestable proof     Of his singular magical powers:          And I have known the family to call     Him in from the garden for hours,          While he was asleep in the hall.And not long ago this phenomenal Cat Produced seven kittens right out of a hat! As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. You hardly know when you are coming back, You will find so much to learn." And I must borrow every changing shape To find expression...dance, dance Like a dancing bear, Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape. This music is successful with a "dying fall" Now that we talk of dying— And should I have the right to smile? Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair—. Used with the permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. How keen you are!] Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:At whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the timeJust controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime! We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and fingertips. Was there ever               A Cat so clever                    As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees! From Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. This poem, from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, inspired lyrics and characters in the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Cats. POEMS by T. S. ELIOT New York Alfred A. Knopf 1920 To Jean Verdenal 1889-1915 Certain of these poems first appeared in Poetry, Blast, Others, The Little Review, and Art and Letters. An elderly waiter with trembling hands was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked cloth over the rusty green iron table, saying: "If the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden..." I decided that if the shaking of her breasts could be stopped, some of the fragments of the afternoon might be collected, and I concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to this end. II Now that lilacs are in bloom She has a bowl of lilacs in her room And twists one in his fingers while she talks. "And so you are going abroad; and when do you return? you are not blind! "Perhaps you can write to me." Forums | Word play | Search, home These include ‘Portrait of a Lady’ and ‘Rhapsody on a Windy Night.’ He was born in St. Louis, Missouri to a prominent local family. T.S. And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray. "So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul Should be resurrected only among friends Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room." Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar . Poems Home | Find a Poet | Classic Poems | Poetry Forums | Word play | Search . a poet | poetry showcase Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime. But what have I, but what have I, my friend, To give you, what can you receive from me? Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there! For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles. And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s. Why we have not developed into friends." He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair: Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity. I smile, of course, And go on drinking tea. As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. HTML © 2001-2020, Selendy Communications. Used with the permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. This music is successful with a "dying fall" Now that we talk of dying— And should I have the right to smile? I keep my countenance, I remain self-possessed Except when a street piano, mechanical and tired Reiterates some worn-out common song With the smell of hyacinths across the garden Recalling things that other people have desired.