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The Waste Land


prolonged candle-flames,Flung their smoke into the
laquearia,Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.Huge sea-
wood fed with copperBurned green and orange, framed by the
coloured stone,In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.Above
the antique mantel was displayedAs though a window gave upon
the sylvan sceneThe change of Philomel, by the barbarous kingSo
rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100Filled all the desert with
inviolable voiceAnd still she cried, and still the world pursues,"Jug
Jug" to dirty ears.And other withered stumps of timeWere told
upon the walls; staring formsLeaned out, leaning, hushing the room
enclosed.Footsteps shuffled on the stair.Under the firelight, under
the brush, her hairSpread out in fiery pointsGlowed into words,
then would be savagely still. 110
"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me."Speak to me.
Why do you never speak. Speak."What are you thinking of? What
thinking? What?"I never know what you are thinking. Think."
I think we are in rats' alleyWhere the dead men lost their bones.
"What is that noise?" The wind under the
door."What is that noise now? What is the wind
doing?" Nothing again nothing.
120 "Do"You know
nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember"Nothing?"
I rememberThose are pearls that were his eyes."Are you alive,
or not? Is there nothing in your
head?" ButO O O O
that Shakespeherian Rag -It's so elegantSo intelligent 130"What
shall I do now? What shall I do?"I shall rush out as I am, and walk
the street"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-
morrow?"What shall we ever do?" The hot
water at ten.And if it rains, a closed car at four.And we shall play a
game of chess,Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon
the door.
When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -I didn't mince my words,
I said to her myself, 140HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIMENow
Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.He'll want to know
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