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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391213" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Durance</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(1907)<br>1 am homesick after mine own kind,<br>Oh I know that there are folk about me, friendly faces,<br>But I am homesick after mine own kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'These sell our pictures'! Oh well,<br>They reach me not, touch me some edge or that,<br>But reach me not and all my life's become<br>One flame, that reaches not beyond<br>My heart's own hearth,<br>Or hides among the ashes there for thee.<br>Thee'? Oh, 'Thee' is who cometh first<br>Out of mine own soul-kin,<br>For I am homesick after mine own kind<br>And ordinary people touch me not.<br>And I am homesick<br>After mine own kind that know, and feel<br>And have some breath for beauty and the arts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aye, I am wistful for my kin of the spirit<br>And have none about me save in the shadows<br>When come they, surging of power, 'DAEMON,'<br>'Quasi KALOUN.' S.T. says Beauty is most that, a<br>'calling to the soul'.<br>Well then, so call they, the swirlers out of the mist of my soul,<br>They that come mewards, bearing old magic.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But for all that, I am homesick after mine own kind<br>And would meet kindred even as I am,<br>Flesh-shrouded bearing the secret.<br>'All they that with strange sadness'<br>Have the earth in mockery, and are kind to all,<br>My fellows, aye I know the glory<br>Of th' unbounded ones, but ye, that hide<br>As I hide most the while<br>And burst forth to the windows only whiles or whiles<br>For love, or hope or beauty or for power,<br>Then smoulder, with the lids half closed<br>And are untouched by echoes of the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh ye, my fellows: with the seas between us some be,<br>Purple and sapphire for the silver shafts<br>Of sun and spray all shattered at the bows;<br>And some the hills hold off,<br>The little hills to east of us, though here we<br>Have damp and plain to be our shutting in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet my soul sings ‘Up!' and we are one.<br>Yea thou, and Thou, and THOU, and all my kin<br>To whom my breast and arms are ever warm,<br>For that I love ye as the wind the trees<br>That holds their blossoms and their leaves in cure<br>And calls the utmost singing from the boughs<br>That Hhout him, save the aspen, were as dumb<br>Still shade, and bade no whisper speak the birds of how<br>'Beyond, beyond, beyond, there lies . . .'</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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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391213" data-title="In Durance de Ezra Pound" data-description="(1907)
1 am homesick after mine own kind,
Oh I know that there are folk about me, friendly faces,
But I am homesick after mine own kind.

'These sell our pictures'! Oh well,
They reach me not, touch me some edge or that,
But reach me not and all m..."></div>
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