1 his papier-mâché, which you see, my friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors.
Its mind was made up in 'the seventies',
Nor hath it ever since changed that concoction.
It works to represent that school of thought
Which brought the hair-cloth chair to such perfection,
Nor will the horrid threats of Bernard Shaw
Shake up the stagnant pool of its convictions;
Nay, should the deathless voice of all the world
Speak once again for its sole stimulation,
Twould not move it one jot from left to right.
Come Beauty barefoot from the Cyclades,
She'd find a model for St. Anthony
In this thing's sure decorum and behaviour.
Ezra Pound's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (‘Phasellus Ille’ by Ezra Pound )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Right or wrong!, Mark Heathcote
- Graveyard, Dr PJ Raj Kamal
- Symphony of Discords By K.V.Suryanarayan.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Our Roads, Somanathan Iyer
- It's Not Just Rain, Daniel Skentelbery
- The Day After I Shouted Abuse at the Queen, Daniel Skentelbery
- Name-Calling, Diane Hine
- A pan fried fish…?, Mark Heathcote
- The Persecuted, Sandra Feldman
- wedding day, ademola oluwabusayo