Ezra Pound Poems

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

Three spirits came to me
And drew me apart
To where the olive boughs
Lay stripped upon the ground:
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Lady of rich allure,
Queen of the spring's embrace,
Your arms are long like boughs of ash,
Mid laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure,
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Towards the Noel that morte saison
(Christ make the shepherds' homage dear!)
Then when the grey wolves everychone
Drink of the winds their chill small-beer
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DOLE THE BELL! BELL THE DOLE!

Whom can these duds attack?
Soapy Sime? Slipp'ry Mac?
...

Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention,
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Vex not thou the banker's mind
(His what?) with a show of sense,
Vex it not, Willie, his mind,
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Agathas
Four and forty lovers had Agathas in the old days,
All of whom she refused;
And now she turns to me seeking love,
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Rudyard the dud yard,
Rudyard the false measure,
Told 'em that glory
Ain't always a pleasure,
...