Ezra Pound

(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

Ezra Pound Poems

81. Gentildonna 4/1/2010
82. Grace Before Song 1/1/2004
83. Guido Invites You Thus 4/1/2010
84. Heather 4/1/2010
85. Her Monument, The Image Cut Thereon 4/1/2010
86. Historion 1/1/2004
87. Histrion 1/3/2003
88. Homage To Quintus Septimus Florentis Christianus 4/1/2010
89. Homage To Sextus Propertius - I 4/1/2010
90. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ii 4/1/2010
91. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iii 4/1/2010
92. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iv 4/1/2010
93. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ix 4/1/2010
94. Homage To Sextus Propertius - V 4/1/2010
95. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vi 4/1/2010
96. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vii 4/1/2010
97. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Viii 4/1/2010
98. Homage To Sextus Propertius - X 4/1/2010
99. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xi 4/1/2010
100. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xii 4/1/2010
101. Horae Beatae Inscripto 4/1/2010
102. Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I) 1/3/2003
103. Image From D'Orleans 4/1/2010
104. Impressions Of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire) 4/1/2010
105. In A Station Of The Metro 1/3/2003
106. In Durance 4/1/2010
107. In Exitum Cuiusdam 4/1/2010
108. In Tempore Senectutis 1/1/2004
109. In The Old Age Of The Soul 1/1/2004
110. Invern 1/1/2004
111. Ione, Dead The Long Year 1/3/2003
112. Ité 1/3/2003
113. La Fraisne 4/1/2010
114. La Regina Avrillouse 1/3/2003
115. Ladies 4/1/2010
116. Lament Of The Frontier Guard 1/3/2003
117. Langue D'Oc 4/1/2010
118. L'Art 1/3/2003
119. Leave-Taking Near Shoku 4/1/2010
120. Les Millwin 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Ezra Pound

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Read the full of A Girl

The Needle

Come, or the stellar tide will slip away.
Eastward avoid the hour of its decline,
Now! for the needle trembles in my soul!

Here have we had the vantage, the good hour.
Here we have had our day, your day and mine.
Come now, before this power
That bears us up, shall turn against the pole.
Mock not the flood of stars, the thing's to be.

[Hata Bildir]