An Object - Ezra Pound

This thing, that hath a code and not a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now
Disturbeth his reflections.


Ezra Pound

An Immorality - Ezra Pound

Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.

Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.

And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,

Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.


Ezra Pound

Amities - Ezra Pound

I

To one, on returning certain years after

You wore the same quite correct clothing,
You took no pleasure at all in my triumphs,
You had the same old air of condescension
Mingled with a curious fear
That I, myself, might have enjoyed them.
Te Voilel, mon Bourrienne, you also shall be immortal.

II
To another

And we say good-bye to you also,
For you seem never to have discovered
That your relationship is wholly parasitic;
Yet to our feasts you bring neither
Wit, nor good spirits, nor the pleasing attitudes
Of discipleship.

III
But you, bos amic, we keep on,
For you we owe a real debt:
In spite of your obvious flaws,
You once discovered a moderate chop-house.

IV
Iste fuit vir incultus,
Deo Laus, quod est sepultus,
Vermes habent eius vultum
A-a-a-a –A-men.
Ego autem jovialis
Gaudero contubernalis
Cum jocunda femina.


Ezra Pound

Alf’s Twelfth Bit - Ezra Pound

BALLAD FOR THE TIMES' SPECIAL SILVER NUMBER

Sez the Times a silver lining
Is what has set us pining,
Montague, Montague!

In the season sad and weary
When our minds are very bleary,
Montague, Montague!

There is Sir Hen. Deterding
His phrases interlarding,
Montague, Montague!

With the this and that and what
For putting silver on the spot,
Montague, Montague!

Just drop it in the slot
And it will surely boil the pot,
Montague, Montague!

Gold, of course, is solid too,
But some silver set to stew
Might do, too. Montague!
With a lively wood-pulp ‘ad’.

To cheer the bad and sad,
Montague, Montague!


Ezra Pound

Alf’s Third Bit - Ezra Pound

DOLE THE BELL! BELL THE DOLE!

Whom can these duds attack?
Soapy Sime? Slipp'ry Mac?
Naught but a shirt is there
Such as the fascists wear,
Never the man inside
Moving a nation-wide
Disgust with hokum.

Plenty to right of 'em,
Plenty to left of 'em,
Yeh! What is left of 'em,
Boozy, uncertain.
See how they take it all, .
Down there in Clerkenwall
Readin' th' pypers!

Syrup and soothing dope,
Sure, they can live on hope,
Ain't yeh got precedent ?
Ten years and twelve years gone,
Ten more and nothing done,
GOD save Britannia!


Ezra Pound

Alf’s Tenth Bit - Ezra Pound

WIND

Scarce and thin, scarce and thin
The government's excuse,
Never at all will they do
Aught of the slightest use.
Over the dying half-wits blow,
Over the empty-headed, and the slow
Marchers, not getting forwarder,
While Ramsay MacDonald sleeps, sleeps.

Fester and rot, fester and rot,
And angle and tergiversate
One thing among all things you will not
Do, that is: think, before it's too late.
Election will not come very soon,
And those born with a silver spoon,
Will keep it a little longer,
Until the mind of the old nation gets a little stronger.


Ezra Pound