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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!

Here have we had the vantage, the good hour.

Here we have had our day, your day and mine.

Come now, before this

That bears us up, shall turn against the pole.

Mock not the flood of stars, the thing's to be.

O Love, come now, this land turns evil slowly.

The waves bore in, soon will they bear away.

The treasure is ours, make we fast land with it.

Move we and take the tide, with its next favour,

Under some neutral

Until this course turneth aside.

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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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