Ezra Pound Poems

BALLAD FOR THE TIMES' SPECIAL SILVER NUMBER

Sez the Times a silver lining
Is what has set us pining,
...

Aye! I am a poet and upon my tomb
Shall maidens scatter rose leaves
And men myrtles, ere the night
Slays day with her dark sword.
...

1 his papier-mâché, which you see, my friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors.
Its mind was made up in 'the seventies',
...

The girl in the tea shop
Is not so beautiful as she was,
The August has worn against her.
She does not get up the stairs so eagerly;
...

O helpless few in my country, remnant enslaved!

Artists broken against her,
...

The pomps of butchery, financial power,
Told 'em to die in war, and then to save,
Then cut their saving to the half or lower;
...

I even I, am he who knoweth the roads
Through the sky, and the wind thereof is my body.
...

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
The midnight activities of Whats-his Name,
Scarcely a general now known to fame
...

Rest Master, for we be a-weary, weary
And would feel the fingers of the wind
Upon these lids that lie over us
...

The light became her grace and dwelt among
Blind eyes and shadows that are formed as men;
Lo, how the light doth melt us into song:
...