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Ezra Pound

Ezra Pound

Tempora

Io! Io! Tamuz!
The Dryad staiids in my court-yard
With plaintive, querulous crying.
(Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!)
Oh, no, she is not crying: ‘Tamuz.’
She says, ‘May my poems be printed this week?
The god Pan is afraid to ask you,
May my poems be printed this week?’

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I make a pact with you, Walt Whit… I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig—headed father; I am old enough now to make friend…
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We flash across the level. We thunder thro’ the bridges. We bicker down the cuttings. We sway along the ridges. A rush of streaming hedges,
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Lord God of heaven that with merc… Th’alternate prayer wheel of the n… Eternal hath to thee, and in whose… Our days as rain drops in the sea… As bright white drops upon a leade…
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When I am old I will not have you look apart From me, into the cold, Friend of my heart, Nor be sad in your remembrance
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While my hair was still cut straig… I played about the front gate, pul… You came by on bamboo stilts, play… You walked about my seat, playing… And we went on living in the villa…
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