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.