Monday, September 12, 2011

It is not true, that Mr Eliot wrote a poem called, The Waistband

I truly hope it can still be said, that a certain generation repeats itself, infinitely, to become known for mercilessness to its literature teachers. How completely unimaginably awful, the condition of the esteem for literature would then be, and how degenerately inhibited its natural victims, if their mediator should ever know peace. I give you the title of this note, itself; nothing could be less doubtful, than that 'The Waistband' will seem to outlast The Waste Land until, frantically, on the eve of the exam, the drawstrung drawbridge detains the barge no longer. Whence: everything is remembered.


     A gilded shell
     Red and gold
     The brisk swell
     Rippled both shores
     Southwest wind
     Carried down stream
     The peal of bells
     White towers

T.S. Eliot
The Waste Land
  III  The Fire Sermon
  ll 282 - 290
op. cit.

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