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Go, my songs, seek your praise from the young and from the intolerant,
Move among the lovers of perfection alone.
Seek ever to stand in the hard Sophoclean light And take you wounds from it gladly.
Ezra Pound
Ezra Weston Loomis Pound (30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972) was an expatriate American poet and critic, a major figure in the early modernist p
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Epilogue
O chansons foregoing You were a seven days' wonder When you came out in the magazines You created considerable stir in Chicago, And now you are stale and worn out, You're a very depleted fashion,
Fan-Piece For Her Imperial Lord
O fan of white silk,clear as frost on the grass-blade, You also are laid aside
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
Ione Dead the Long Year
Empty are the ways, Empty are the ways of this land And the flowers Bend over with heavy heads They bend in vain Empty are the ways of this land Where Ione Walked once, and now does not walk But seems like a person just gone...
