Prufrock and Other Observations | Page 7

of her
breasts could be stopped,some of the fragments of the afternoon might
be collected, and I concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to
this end.
Conversation Galante
I observe: "Our sentimental friend the moon
Or possibly (fantastic, I
confess)
It may be Prester John’s balloon
Or an old battered lantern
hung aloft
To light poor travellers to their distress."
She then: "How
you digress!"
And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys
That exquisite nocturne,
with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we
seize
To body forth our own vacuity."
She then: "Does this refer to
me?"
"Oh no, it is I who am inane."
"You, madam, are the eternal humorist
The eternal enemy of the
absolute,
Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist
With your air
indifferent and imperious
At a stroke our mad poetics to confute--"

And--"Are we then so serious?"
La Figlia Che Piange
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair--
Lean on a garden urn--

Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair--
Clasp your flowers to you
with a pained surprise--
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a
fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in
your hair.
So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and
grieve,
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and
bruised
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find

Some way incomparably light and deft,
Some way we both should
understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand.

She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my
imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over
her arms and her arms full of flowers.
And I wonder how they should
have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose.

Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and
the noon’s repose.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Prufrock/Other Observations, by
Eliot
from http://www.dertz.in/