APPARUIT
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N.
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N.
Ezra-Pound-Ripostes
?
s/ 12
? . V
? RIPOSTES OF EZRA POUND
? BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
POEMS
PERSONAL EXULTATIONS CANZONI
PROSE
THE SPIRIT OF ROMANCE
? RIPOSTES OF
EZRA POUND
WHERETO ARE APPENDED THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF
T. E. HULME WITH PREFATORY NOTE
MCMXII
STEPHEN SWIFT AND CO. , LTD. 16 KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN CONDON
? Gird ou thy star, We'll have this out with fate.
? TO
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
? S1LET
IN EXITUM CU1USDAM . APPARUIT
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N. Y. .
A GIRL
"PHASELLUS ILLE
.
CONTENTS
. . . .
VAGI . 9 . . n 12
"
. . . .
AN OBJECT
QUIES
THE SEAFARER
ECHOES: 1
ECHOES : II. . . . . . .
AN IMMORALITY
DIEU QU'lL LA FAIT
. . .
. . . .
14 17 20 21 22
23 24 *5 31 33 34 35 36 42 43 45 46
. . . . . . .
SALVE PONTIFEX
! . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . THE NEEDLE
Aa o'y)/
SUB MARE PLUNGE
? A VIRGINAL
PAN IS DEAD
THE PICTURE
OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO THE RETURN
48 50 51 52 53
55 57
PREFATORY NOTE
AUTUMN 60
. . . . . . . EFFECTS OF MUSIC UPON A COMPANY OF
PEOPLE
I. DEUX MOVEMENTS . . . .
II. FROM A THING BY SCHUMANN
.
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. HULME
MANA ABODA ABOVE THE DOCK THE EMBANKMENT CONVERSION
. . . . . .
58
61
62
63 64
. . . .
. . . . . . .
8
? RIPOSTES
SILET
I behold how black, im-
mortal ink WHEN
Drips from my deathless pen
ah, well-away !
Why should we stop at all for what I
think ?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
It is enough that we once came together ; What is the use of setting it to rime ? When it is autumn do we get spring
weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish
time?
9
? It is enough that we once came together ; What if the wind have turned against the
rain ?
It is enough that we once came together ; Time has seen this, and will not turn
again ;
And who are we, who know that last
intent,
To plague to-morrow with a testament !
ro
? IN EXITUM CUIUSDAM
On a certain one's departure ""
rTpIME'S
all very well,
bitter flood
!
Oh, that's
But where's the old friend hasn't fallen off,
Or slacked his hand-grip when you first gripped fame ?
I know your circle and can fairly tell What you have kept and what you've left
behind :
I know my circle and know very well How many faces I'd have out of mind.
ii
? portent. flickered,
APPARUIT
rose the house, in the
I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle
portal GOLDEN
stuff, a
Life died down in the lamp and
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar moving in the glamorous sun drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the
tissue
golden about thee.
Green the ways, the breath of the fields is thine there,
open lies the land, yet the steely going darkly hast thou dared and the dreaded
aether
parted before thee. 12
? Swift at courage thou in the shell of gold, cast-
ing a-loose the cloak of the body, earnest straight, then shone thine oriel and the
stunned light
faded about thee.
Half the graven shoulder, the throat aflash with
strands of light inwoven about it, loveli- est of all things, frail alabaster, ah me !
swift in departing,
Clothed in goldish weft, delicately perfect, gone as wind ! The cloth of the magical
hands !
Thou a slight thing, thou in access of
cunning
dar'dst to assume this ?
? THE TOMB AT AKR QAAR
AM thy soul, Nikoptis. watched
I have
I
These five millennia, and thy dead
eyes
Moved not, nor ever answer my desire,
And thy light limbs, wherethrough I leapt aflame,
Burn not with me nor any saffron thing.
See, the light grass sprang up to pillow thee,
And kissed thee with a myriad grassy
tongues ; But not thou me.
I have read out the gold upon the
wall,
And wearied out my thought upon the
signs.
And there is no new thing in all this
place.
? I have been kind. See, I have left the
jars sealed,
Lest thou shouldst wake and whimper
for thy wine.
And all thy robes I have kept smooth on
thee.
thou unmindful !
How should I forget !
Even the river many days ago, The river, thou wast over young.
And three souls came upon Thee
'
And I came.
And I flowed in upon thee, beat them off ; 1 have been intimate with thee, known
thy ways.
Have I not touched thy palms and
finger-tips,
Flowed in, and through thee and about
thy heels ?
*' How came I in ?
and Thee ?
Was I not thee
And no sun comes to rest me in this place, And I am torn against the jagged dark, 15
? And no light beats upon me, and you say No word, day after day.
Oh ! I could get me out, despite the marks And all their crafty work upon the door,
Outthroughtheglass-greenfields. . . .
Yet it is quiet here : I do not go. "
16
? PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME
mind and you are our Sargasso
Sea, YO|UR
London has swept about you this
score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee :
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you lacking someone else.
Youhavebeensecondalways. Tragical? No. Youpreferredittotheusualthing: One dull man, dulling and uxorious, Oneaveragemind withonethoughtless,
each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you
sit
Hours,
floated up.
where something might have
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
17
2
? You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away :
Trophies fished up ; some curious sugges-
tion
;
Factthatleadsnowhere andatalefor ;
two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with some-
thing else
That might prove useful and yet never
proves,
That never fits a corner or shows
use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of
days :
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old
work
;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays, These are your riches, your great store ;
and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous
things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new
brighter stuff :
18
? In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No!
there is nothing ! and all,
In the whole
Nothing that's quite your own. Yet this is you.
? MY Listen !
N. Y.
City, my beloved, my white ! Ah, slender,
Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me !
NowdoIknowthatIammad,
For here are a million people surly with
traffic ; This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed. Listen to me, attend me !
And I will breathe into thee a soul, And thou shalt live for ever.
20
? A GIRL
tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms, THE
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.
Achild sohigh youare,
And all this is folly to the world.
21
? 'PHASELLUS ILLE"
papier-mache, which you see, THISmy friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors. Its mind was made up in " the seventies," Nor hath it ever since changed that con-
coction.
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 convic-
tions
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.
22
;
? AN OBJECT
thing, that hath a code and THISnot a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
? QUIES
is another of our ancient loves.
Pass and be silent, Rullus, for THIS
the day
Hath lacked a something since this
lady passed ;
Hath lacked a something. Twas but
marginal.
24
? THE SEAFARER (From the early A nglo-Saxon text)
I for my own self song's truth reckon,
MAY
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh
days Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care's hold, And dire sea-surge, and there I oft
spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs.
Coldly
afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are ; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot Mere-wearymood. Lestmanknownot That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea, Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen ; 25
? Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-
scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan
cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour, Sea-fowls' loudness was for me laughter, The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
APPARUIT
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N. Y. .
A GIRL
"PHASELLUS ILLE
.
CONTENTS
. . . .
VAGI . 9 . . n 12
"
. . . .
AN OBJECT
QUIES
THE SEAFARER
ECHOES: 1
ECHOES : II. . . . . . .
AN IMMORALITY
DIEU QU'lL LA FAIT
. . .
. . . .
14 17 20 21 22
23 24 *5 31 33 34 35 36 42 43 45 46
. . . . . . .
SALVE PONTIFEX
! . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . THE NEEDLE
Aa o'y)/
SUB MARE PLUNGE
? A VIRGINAL
PAN IS DEAD
THE PICTURE
OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO THE RETURN
48 50 51 52 53
55 57
PREFATORY NOTE
AUTUMN 60
. . . . . . . EFFECTS OF MUSIC UPON A COMPANY OF
PEOPLE
I. DEUX MOVEMENTS . . . .
II. FROM A THING BY SCHUMANN
.
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. HULME
MANA ABODA ABOVE THE DOCK THE EMBANKMENT CONVERSION
. . . . . .
58
61
62
63 64
. . . .
. . . . . . .
8
? RIPOSTES
SILET
I behold how black, im-
mortal ink WHEN
Drips from my deathless pen
ah, well-away !
Why should we stop at all for what I
think ?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
It is enough that we once came together ; What is the use of setting it to rime ? When it is autumn do we get spring
weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish
time?
9
? It is enough that we once came together ; What if the wind have turned against the
rain ?
It is enough that we once came together ; Time has seen this, and will not turn
again ;
And who are we, who know that last
intent,
To plague to-morrow with a testament !
ro
? IN EXITUM CUIUSDAM
On a certain one's departure ""
rTpIME'S
all very well,
bitter flood
!
Oh, that's
But where's the old friend hasn't fallen off,
Or slacked his hand-grip when you first gripped fame ?
I know your circle and can fairly tell What you have kept and what you've left
behind :
I know my circle and know very well How many faces I'd have out of mind.
ii
? portent. flickered,
APPARUIT
rose the house, in the
I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle
portal GOLDEN
stuff, a
Life died down in the lamp and
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar moving in the glamorous sun drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the
tissue
golden about thee.
Green the ways, the breath of the fields is thine there,
open lies the land, yet the steely going darkly hast thou dared and the dreaded
aether
parted before thee. 12
? Swift at courage thou in the shell of gold, cast-
ing a-loose the cloak of the body, earnest straight, then shone thine oriel and the
stunned light
faded about thee.
Half the graven shoulder, the throat aflash with
strands of light inwoven about it, loveli- est of all things, frail alabaster, ah me !
swift in departing,
Clothed in goldish weft, delicately perfect, gone as wind ! The cloth of the magical
hands !
Thou a slight thing, thou in access of
cunning
dar'dst to assume this ?
? THE TOMB AT AKR QAAR
AM thy soul, Nikoptis. watched
I have
I
These five millennia, and thy dead
eyes
Moved not, nor ever answer my desire,
And thy light limbs, wherethrough I leapt aflame,
Burn not with me nor any saffron thing.
See, the light grass sprang up to pillow thee,
And kissed thee with a myriad grassy
tongues ; But not thou me.
I have read out the gold upon the
wall,
And wearied out my thought upon the
signs.
And there is no new thing in all this
place.
? I have been kind. See, I have left the
jars sealed,
Lest thou shouldst wake and whimper
for thy wine.
And all thy robes I have kept smooth on
thee.
thou unmindful !
How should I forget !
Even the river many days ago, The river, thou wast over young.
And three souls came upon Thee
'
And I came.
And I flowed in upon thee, beat them off ; 1 have been intimate with thee, known
thy ways.
Have I not touched thy palms and
finger-tips,
Flowed in, and through thee and about
thy heels ?
*' How came I in ?
and Thee ?
Was I not thee
And no sun comes to rest me in this place, And I am torn against the jagged dark, 15
? And no light beats upon me, and you say No word, day after day.
Oh ! I could get me out, despite the marks And all their crafty work upon the door,
Outthroughtheglass-greenfields. . . .
Yet it is quiet here : I do not go. "
16
? PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME
mind and you are our Sargasso
Sea, YO|UR
London has swept about you this
score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee :
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you lacking someone else.
Youhavebeensecondalways. Tragical? No. Youpreferredittotheusualthing: One dull man, dulling and uxorious, Oneaveragemind withonethoughtless,
each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you
sit
Hours,
floated up.
where something might have
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
17
2
? You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away :
Trophies fished up ; some curious sugges-
tion
;
Factthatleadsnowhere andatalefor ;
two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with some-
thing else
That might prove useful and yet never
proves,
That never fits a corner or shows
use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of
days :
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old
work
;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays, These are your riches, your great store ;
and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous
things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new
brighter stuff :
18
? In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No!
there is nothing ! and all,
In the whole
Nothing that's quite your own. Yet this is you.
? MY Listen !
N. Y.
City, my beloved, my white ! Ah, slender,
Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me !
NowdoIknowthatIammad,
For here are a million people surly with
traffic ; This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed. Listen to me, attend me !
And I will breathe into thee a soul, And thou shalt live for ever.
20
? A GIRL
tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms, THE
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.
Achild sohigh youare,
And all this is folly to the world.
21
? 'PHASELLUS ILLE"
papier-mache, which you see, THISmy friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors. Its mind was made up in " the seventies," Nor hath it ever since changed that con-
coction.
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 convic-
tions
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.
22
;
? AN OBJECT
thing, that hath a code and THISnot a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
? QUIES
is another of our ancient loves.
Pass and be silent, Rullus, for THIS
the day
Hath lacked a something since this
lady passed ;
Hath lacked a something. Twas but
marginal.
24
? THE SEAFARER (From the early A nglo-Saxon text)
I for my own self song's truth reckon,
MAY
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh
days Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care's hold, And dire sea-surge, and there I oft
spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs.
Coldly
afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are ; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot Mere-wearymood. Lestmanknownot That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea, Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen ; 25
? Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-
scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan
cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour, Sea-fowls' loudness was for me laughter, The mews' singing all my mead-drink. Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on
the stern
In icy feathers ; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion.
Not any protector
May make merry man faring needy.
This he little believes, who aye in win-
some life
Abides 'mid burghers some heavy busi-
ness,
Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary
oft
Must bide above brine.
Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north, Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth
then
26
? Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now
The heart's thought that I on high streams
The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone. Moaneth alway my mind's lust
That I fare forth, that I afar hence Seek out a foreign fastness.
For this there's no mood-lofty man over earth's midst,
Not though he be given his good, but will
have in his youth greed ;
Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to
the faithful
But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare Whatever his lord will.
He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-
having
Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world's
delight
Nor any whit else save the wave's
slash,
Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth
on tjie water.
27
? Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries,
Fields to fairness, land fares brisker,
All this admonisheth man eager of mood, The heart turns to travel so that he then
thinks
On flood-ways to be far departing. Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying,
He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow, The bitter heart's blood. Burgher knows
not
He the prosperous man what some per- form
Where wandering them widest draweth. So that but now my heart burst from my
breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer, Whets for the whale-path the heart
irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean ; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life 28
? On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth Save there be somewhat calamitous That, ere a man's tide go, turn it to twain.
? . V
? RIPOSTES OF EZRA POUND
? BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
POEMS
PERSONAL EXULTATIONS CANZONI
PROSE
THE SPIRIT OF ROMANCE
? RIPOSTES OF
EZRA POUND
WHERETO ARE APPENDED THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF
T. E. HULME WITH PREFATORY NOTE
MCMXII
STEPHEN SWIFT AND CO. , LTD. 16 KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN CONDON
? Gird ou thy star, We'll have this out with fate.
? TO
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
? S1LET
IN EXITUM CU1USDAM . APPARUIT
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N. Y. .
A GIRL
"PHASELLUS ILLE
.
CONTENTS
. . . .
VAGI . 9 . . n 12
"
. . . .
AN OBJECT
QUIES
THE SEAFARER
ECHOES: 1
ECHOES : II. . . . . . .
AN IMMORALITY
DIEU QU'lL LA FAIT
. . .
. . . .
14 17 20 21 22
23 24 *5 31 33 34 35 36 42 43 45 46
. . . . . . .
SALVE PONTIFEX
! . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . THE NEEDLE
Aa o'y)/
SUB MARE PLUNGE
? A VIRGINAL
PAN IS DEAD
THE PICTURE
OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO THE RETURN
48 50 51 52 53
55 57
PREFATORY NOTE
AUTUMN 60
. . . . . . . EFFECTS OF MUSIC UPON A COMPANY OF
PEOPLE
I. DEUX MOVEMENTS . . . .
II. FROM A THING BY SCHUMANN
.
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. HULME
MANA ABODA ABOVE THE DOCK THE EMBANKMENT CONVERSION
. . . . . .
58
61
62
63 64
. . . .
. . . . . . .
8
? RIPOSTES
SILET
I behold how black, im-
mortal ink WHEN
Drips from my deathless pen
ah, well-away !
Why should we stop at all for what I
think ?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
It is enough that we once came together ; What is the use of setting it to rime ? When it is autumn do we get spring
weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish
time?
9
? It is enough that we once came together ; What if the wind have turned against the
rain ?
It is enough that we once came together ; Time has seen this, and will not turn
again ;
And who are we, who know that last
intent,
To plague to-morrow with a testament !
ro
? IN EXITUM CUIUSDAM
On a certain one's departure ""
rTpIME'S
all very well,
bitter flood
!
Oh, that's
But where's the old friend hasn't fallen off,
Or slacked his hand-grip when you first gripped fame ?
I know your circle and can fairly tell What you have kept and what you've left
behind :
I know my circle and know very well How many faces I'd have out of mind.
ii
? portent. flickered,
APPARUIT
rose the house, in the
I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle
portal GOLDEN
stuff, a
Life died down in the lamp and
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar moving in the glamorous sun drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the
tissue
golden about thee.
Green the ways, the breath of the fields is thine there,
open lies the land, yet the steely going darkly hast thou dared and the dreaded
aether
parted before thee. 12
? Swift at courage thou in the shell of gold, cast-
ing a-loose the cloak of the body, earnest straight, then shone thine oriel and the
stunned light
faded about thee.
Half the graven shoulder, the throat aflash with
strands of light inwoven about it, loveli- est of all things, frail alabaster, ah me !
swift in departing,
Clothed in goldish weft, delicately perfect, gone as wind ! The cloth of the magical
hands !
Thou a slight thing, thou in access of
cunning
dar'dst to assume this ?
? THE TOMB AT AKR QAAR
AM thy soul, Nikoptis. watched
I have
I
These five millennia, and thy dead
eyes
Moved not, nor ever answer my desire,
And thy light limbs, wherethrough I leapt aflame,
Burn not with me nor any saffron thing.
See, the light grass sprang up to pillow thee,
And kissed thee with a myriad grassy
tongues ; But not thou me.
I have read out the gold upon the
wall,
And wearied out my thought upon the
signs.
And there is no new thing in all this
place.
? I have been kind. See, I have left the
jars sealed,
Lest thou shouldst wake and whimper
for thy wine.
And all thy robes I have kept smooth on
thee.
thou unmindful !
How should I forget !
Even the river many days ago, The river, thou wast over young.
And three souls came upon Thee
'
And I came.
And I flowed in upon thee, beat them off ; 1 have been intimate with thee, known
thy ways.
Have I not touched thy palms and
finger-tips,
Flowed in, and through thee and about
thy heels ?
*' How came I in ?
and Thee ?
Was I not thee
And no sun comes to rest me in this place, And I am torn against the jagged dark, 15
? And no light beats upon me, and you say No word, day after day.
Oh ! I could get me out, despite the marks And all their crafty work upon the door,
Outthroughtheglass-greenfields. . . .
Yet it is quiet here : I do not go. "
16
? PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME
mind and you are our Sargasso
Sea, YO|UR
London has swept about you this
score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee :
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you lacking someone else.
Youhavebeensecondalways. Tragical? No. Youpreferredittotheusualthing: One dull man, dulling and uxorious, Oneaveragemind withonethoughtless,
each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you
sit
Hours,
floated up.
where something might have
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
17
2
? You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away :
Trophies fished up ; some curious sugges-
tion
;
Factthatleadsnowhere andatalefor ;
two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with some-
thing else
That might prove useful and yet never
proves,
That never fits a corner or shows
use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of
days :
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old
work
;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays, These are your riches, your great store ;
and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous
things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new
brighter stuff :
18
? In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No!
there is nothing ! and all,
In the whole
Nothing that's quite your own. Yet this is you.
? MY Listen !
N. Y.
City, my beloved, my white ! Ah, slender,
Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me !
NowdoIknowthatIammad,
For here are a million people surly with
traffic ; This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed. Listen to me, attend me !
And I will breathe into thee a soul, And thou shalt live for ever.
20
? A GIRL
tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms, THE
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.
Achild sohigh youare,
And all this is folly to the world.
21
? 'PHASELLUS ILLE"
papier-mache, which you see, THISmy friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors. Its mind was made up in " the seventies," Nor hath it ever since changed that con-
coction.
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 convic-
tions
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.
22
;
? AN OBJECT
thing, that hath a code and THISnot a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
? QUIES
is another of our ancient loves.
Pass and be silent, Rullus, for THIS
the day
Hath lacked a something since this
lady passed ;
Hath lacked a something. Twas but
marginal.
24
? THE SEAFARER (From the early A nglo-Saxon text)
I for my own self song's truth reckon,
MAY
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh
days Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care's hold, And dire sea-surge, and there I oft
spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs.
Coldly
afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are ; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot Mere-wearymood. Lestmanknownot That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea, Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen ; 25
? Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-
scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan
cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour, Sea-fowls' loudness was for me laughter, The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
APPARUIT
THE TOMB AT AKR AAR PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME N. Y. .
A GIRL
"PHASELLUS ILLE
.
CONTENTS
. . . .
VAGI . 9 . . n 12
"
. . . .
AN OBJECT
QUIES
THE SEAFARER
ECHOES: 1
ECHOES : II. . . . . . .
AN IMMORALITY
DIEU QU'lL LA FAIT
. . .
. . . .
14 17 20 21 22
23 24 *5 31 33 34 35 36 42 43 45 46
. . . . . . .
SALVE PONTIFEX
! . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . THE NEEDLE
Aa o'y)/
SUB MARE PLUNGE
? A VIRGINAL
PAN IS DEAD
THE PICTURE
OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO THE RETURN
48 50 51 52 53
55 57
PREFATORY NOTE
AUTUMN 60
. . . . . . . EFFECTS OF MUSIC UPON A COMPANY OF
PEOPLE
I. DEUX MOVEMENTS . . . .
II. FROM A THING BY SCHUMANN
.
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. HULME
MANA ABODA ABOVE THE DOCK THE EMBANKMENT CONVERSION
. . . . . .
58
61
62
63 64
. . . .
. . . . . . .
8
? RIPOSTES
SILET
I behold how black, im-
mortal ink WHEN
Drips from my deathless pen
ah, well-away !
Why should we stop at all for what I
think ?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
It is enough that we once came together ; What is the use of setting it to rime ? When it is autumn do we get spring
weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish
time?
9
? It is enough that we once came together ; What if the wind have turned against the
rain ?
It is enough that we once came together ; Time has seen this, and will not turn
again ;
And who are we, who know that last
intent,
To plague to-morrow with a testament !
ro
? IN EXITUM CUIUSDAM
On a certain one's departure ""
rTpIME'S
all very well,
bitter flood
!
Oh, that's
But where's the old friend hasn't fallen off,
Or slacked his hand-grip when you first gripped fame ?
I know your circle and can fairly tell What you have kept and what you've left
behind :
I know my circle and know very well How many faces I'd have out of mind.
ii
? portent. flickered,
APPARUIT
rose the house, in the
I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle
portal GOLDEN
stuff, a
Life died down in the lamp and
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar moving in the glamorous sun drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the
tissue
golden about thee.
Green the ways, the breath of the fields is thine there,
open lies the land, yet the steely going darkly hast thou dared and the dreaded
aether
parted before thee. 12
? Swift at courage thou in the shell of gold, cast-
ing a-loose the cloak of the body, earnest straight, then shone thine oriel and the
stunned light
faded about thee.
Half the graven shoulder, the throat aflash with
strands of light inwoven about it, loveli- est of all things, frail alabaster, ah me !
swift in departing,
Clothed in goldish weft, delicately perfect, gone as wind ! The cloth of the magical
hands !
Thou a slight thing, thou in access of
cunning
dar'dst to assume this ?
? THE TOMB AT AKR QAAR
AM thy soul, Nikoptis. watched
I have
I
These five millennia, and thy dead
eyes
Moved not, nor ever answer my desire,
And thy light limbs, wherethrough I leapt aflame,
Burn not with me nor any saffron thing.
See, the light grass sprang up to pillow thee,
And kissed thee with a myriad grassy
tongues ; But not thou me.
I have read out the gold upon the
wall,
And wearied out my thought upon the
signs.
And there is no new thing in all this
place.
? I have been kind. See, I have left the
jars sealed,
Lest thou shouldst wake and whimper
for thy wine.
And all thy robes I have kept smooth on
thee.
thou unmindful !
How should I forget !
Even the river many days ago, The river, thou wast over young.
And three souls came upon Thee
'
And I came.
And I flowed in upon thee, beat them off ; 1 have been intimate with thee, known
thy ways.
Have I not touched thy palms and
finger-tips,
Flowed in, and through thee and about
thy heels ?
*' How came I in ?
and Thee ?
Was I not thee
And no sun comes to rest me in this place, And I am torn against the jagged dark, 15
? And no light beats upon me, and you say No word, day after day.
Oh ! I could get me out, despite the marks And all their crafty work upon the door,
Outthroughtheglass-greenfields. . . .
Yet it is quiet here : I do not go. "
16
? PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME
mind and you are our Sargasso
Sea, YO|UR
London has swept about you this
score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee :
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you lacking someone else.
Youhavebeensecondalways. Tragical? No. Youpreferredittotheusualthing: One dull man, dulling and uxorious, Oneaveragemind withonethoughtless,
each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you
sit
Hours,
floated up.
where something might have
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
17
2
? You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away :
Trophies fished up ; some curious sugges-
tion
;
Factthatleadsnowhere andatalefor ;
two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with some-
thing else
That might prove useful and yet never
proves,
That never fits a corner or shows
use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of
days :
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old
work
;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays, These are your riches, your great store ;
and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous
things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new
brighter stuff :
18
? In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No!
there is nothing ! and all,
In the whole
Nothing that's quite your own. Yet this is you.
? MY Listen !
N. Y.
City, my beloved, my white ! Ah, slender,
Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me !
NowdoIknowthatIammad,
For here are a million people surly with
traffic ; This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed. Listen to me, attend me !
And I will breathe into thee a soul, And thou shalt live for ever.
20
? A GIRL
tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms, THE
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.
Achild sohigh youare,
And all this is folly to the world.
21
? 'PHASELLUS ILLE"
papier-mache, which you see, THISmy friends,
Saith 'twas the worthiest of editors. Its mind was made up in " the seventies," Nor hath it ever since changed that con-
coction.
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 convic-
tions
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.
22
;
? AN OBJECT
thing, that hath a code and THISnot a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
? QUIES
is another of our ancient loves.
Pass and be silent, Rullus, for THIS
the day
Hath lacked a something since this
lady passed ;
Hath lacked a something. Twas but
marginal.
24
? THE SEAFARER (From the early A nglo-Saxon text)
I for my own self song's truth reckon,
MAY
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh
days Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care's hold, And dire sea-surge, and there I oft
spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs.
Coldly
afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are ; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot Mere-wearymood. Lestmanknownot That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea, Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen ; 25
? Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-
scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan
cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour, Sea-fowls' loudness was for me laughter, The mews' singing all my mead-drink. Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on
the stern
In icy feathers ; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion.
Not any protector
May make merry man faring needy.
This he little believes, who aye in win-
some life
Abides 'mid burghers some heavy busi-
ness,
Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary
oft
Must bide above brine.
Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north, Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth
then
26
? Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now
The heart's thought that I on high streams
The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone. Moaneth alway my mind's lust
That I fare forth, that I afar hence Seek out a foreign fastness.
For this there's no mood-lofty man over earth's midst,
Not though he be given his good, but will
have in his youth greed ;
Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to
the faithful
But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare Whatever his lord will.
He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-
having
Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world's
delight
Nor any whit else save the wave's
slash,
Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth
on tjie water.
27
? Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries,
Fields to fairness, land fares brisker,
All this admonisheth man eager of mood, The heart turns to travel so that he then
thinks
On flood-ways to be far departing. Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying,
He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow, The bitter heart's blood. Burgher knows
not
He the prosperous man what some per- form
Where wandering them widest draweth. So that but now my heart burst from my
breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer, Whets for the whale-path the heart
irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean ; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life 28
? On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth Save there be somewhat calamitous That, ere a man's tide go, turn it to twain.
