Poetic People
     Home     Poets     Contact Us     Chat
Member Login
:
:
 
  Register  Forgot Password
Search
Poem Genres
Anger Poems
Animals Poems
Contemplations Poems
Death Poems
Depression Poems
Dreams Poems
Fear Poems
Fractured Love Poems
Friendship Poems
General
Hate Poems
Holidays Poems
Humor Poems
Introspection Poems
Life Poems
Love Poems
Nature Poems
Political Poems
Religion Poems
Sex Poems
Time Poems
War Poems
Work Poems

 

from "Hugh Selwyn Mauberly" in  General   

For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old scene.Wrong from the start--

No, hardly, but seeing he had been born
In a half-savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;
Capaneus; trout for factitious bait;

[idmen gar toi pant, hos eni Troiei]
Caught in the unstopped ear;
Giving the rocks small lee-way
The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.

His true Penelope was Flaubert,
He fished by obstinate isles;
Observed the elegance of Circe's hair
Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.

Unaffected by "the march of events,"
He passed from men's memory in l'an trentuniesme
De son eage; the case presents
No adjunct to the Muses' diadem.

By Ezra Pound

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Ezra Pound: