Image of T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot

1888 - 1965

Thomas Stearns Eliot was one of America's major and most well known 20th century poets. He is especially recognized for his poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," said to be a masterpiece of the Modernist movement. Eliot was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1948 for his incredible contribution to present-day poetry.


The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
⁠⁠A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
⁠⁠Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
⁠⁠Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
⁠⁠Non torno vivo... [+]


Mr. Apollinax

When Mr. Apollinax visited the United States
His laughter tinkled among the teacups.
I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure among the birch-trees,
And of Priapus in the shrubbery... [+]



The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered... [+]


Rhapsody on a Windy Night

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions... [+]


Aunt Helen

Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven... [+]



As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled... [+]


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 thei... [+]



Thou hast nor youth nor age
                         But as it were an after dinner sleep
     ... [+]


Portrait of a Lady

Thou hast committed⁠—
Fornication: but that was in another country,
⁠And besides, the wench is dead.
⁠(The Jew of Malta)
Among the smoke and fog of a Decembe... [+]


Morning at the Window

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.... [+]


Cousin Nancy

Miss Nancy Ellicot
Strode across the hills and broke them,
Rode across the hills and broke them—
The barren New England hills—
Riding to hounds
Over the cow-pasture.... [+]


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—... [+]