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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391173" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>E.P. Ode Pour L'election De Son Sepulchre</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For three years, out of key with his time,<br>He strove to resuscitate the dead art<br>Of poetry; to maintain &quot;the sublime&quot;<br>In the old sense. Wrong from the start--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, hardly, but seeing he had been born<br>In a half savage country, out of date;<br>Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;<br>Capaneus; trout for factitious bait;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Idmen gar toi panth, hos eni troie<br>Caught in the unstopped ear;<br>Giving the rocks small lee-way<br>The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His true Penelope was Flaubert,<br>He fished by obstinate isles;<br>Observed the elegance of Circe's hair<br>Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unaffected by &quot;the march of events,&quot;<br>He passed from men's memory in l'an trentuniesme<br>de son eage;the case presents<br>No adjunct to the Muses' diadem.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>The age demanded an image<br>Of its accelerated grimace,<br>Something for the modern stage<br>Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not, certainly, the obscure reveries<br>Of the inward gaze;<br>Better mendacities<br>Than the classics in paraphrase!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The &quot;age demanded&quot; chiefly a mould in plaster,<br>Made with no loss of time,<br>A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabaster<br>Or the &quot;sculpture&quot; of rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>The tea-rose tea-gown, etc.<br>Supplants the mousseline of Cos,<br>The pianola &quot;replaces&quot;<br>Sappho's barbitos.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Christ follows Dionysus,<br>Phallic and ambrosial<br>Made way for macerations;<br>Caliban casts out Ariel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All things are a flowing<br>Sage Heracleitus say;<br>But a tawdry cheapness<br>Shall outlast our days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even the Christian beauty<br>Defects--after Samothrace;<br>We see to kalon<br>Decreed in the market place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Faun's flesh is not to us,<br>Nor the saint's vision.<br>We have the press for wafer;<br>Franchise for circumcision.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All men, in law, are equals.<br>Free of Pisistratus,<br>We choose a knave or an eunuch<br>To rule over us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O bright Apollo,<br>Tin andra, tin heroa, tina theon,<br>What god, man or hero<br>Shall I place a tin wreath upon!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV<br>These fought in any case,<br>And some believing,<br>  pro domo, in any case...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some quick to arm,<br>some for adventure,<br>some from fear of weakness,<br>some from fear of censure,<br>some for love of slaughter, in imagination,<br>learning later...<br>some in fear, learning love of slaughter;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Died some, pro patria,<br>  non &quot;dulce&quot; not &quot;et decor&quot;...<br>walked eye-deep in hell<br>believing old men's lies, then unbelieving<br>came home, home to a lie, <br>home to many deceits,<br>home to old lies and new infamy;<br>usury age-old and age-thick<br>and liars in public places.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daring as never before, wastage as never before.<br>Young blood and high blood,<br>fair cheeks, and fine bodies;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">fortitude as never before</div><div style="margin:10px 0">frankness as never before,<br>disillusions as never told in the old days,<br>hysterias, trench confessions,<br>laughter out of dead bellies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V<br>There died a myriad,<br>And of the best, among them,<br>For an old bitch gone in the teeth,<br>For a botched civilization,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Charm, smiling at the good mouth,<br>Quick eyes gone under earth's lid,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For two gross of broken statues,<br>For a few thousand battered books.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ezra+Pound">Ezra Pound</a><div class=q>
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He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain &quot;the sublime&quot;
In the old sense. Wrong from the start--

No, hardly, but seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date..."></div>
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