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Ezra Pound

Ezra Pound

We Shall Surely Die

We shall surely die:
Must we needs grow old?
Grow old and cold,
And we know not why?
 
O, the By-and-By,
And the tale that’s told!
We shall surely die:
Must we needs grow old?
 
Grow old and sigh,
Grudge and withhold,
Resent and scold?…
Not you and I?
We shall surely die!

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Altre opere di Ezra Pound...
Canto XIII

Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
The Plunge

I would bathe myself in strangenes… These comforts heaped upon me, smo… I burn, I scald so for the new, New friends, new faces, Places!
A Pact

I make a pact with you, Walt Whit… I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig—headed father; I am old enough now to make friend…
Where Forlorn Sunsets Flare and Fade

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…
Alf’s Ninth Bit

Listen, my children, and you shall… The midnight activities of Whats-… Scarcely a general now known to fa… Can tell you of that famous day an… When feeble Mr. Asquith, getting…
In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in t… Petals on a wet, black bough.
 1
L’Homme Moyen Sensuel

`Tis of my country that I would e… In hope to set some misconceptions… My country? I love it well, and t… Who, since their wit’s unknown, es… But you stuffed coats who’re neith…
Mr. Housman’s Message

O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already.
The Shadow of Dawn

The shadow of Dawn; Stillness and stars and over-maste… Of Life and Death and Sleep; Heard over gleaming flats, the old… Of the old, unchanging Sea.
Sestina: Altaforte

LOQUITUR: En Betrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in h… Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug him up again?
Canto XLV

With usura hath no man a house of… each block cut smooth and well fit… that design might cover their face… with usura hath no man a painted paradise on…
In the Old Age of the Soul

I do not choose to dream; there co… Some strange old lust for deeds. As to the nerveless hand of some o… The sword—hilt or the war—worn won… Brings momentary life and long—fle…
Provincia Deserta

At Rochecoart, Where the hills part in three ways, And three valleys, full of winding… Fork out to south and north,
Black Slippers: Bellotti

At the table beyond us With her little suede slippers off… With her white-stocking’d feet Carefully kept from the floor by a… She converses:
Historion

No man hath dared to write this th… And yet I know, how that the soul… At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and a… Save reflexions of their souls.



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