T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land Wiki
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After the torch-light red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying  325
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience  330
                                            
Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink  335
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit  340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl

From doors of mud-cracked houses

If there were water
 345
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring  350
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock  355
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water
                               
When I count, there are only you and I together  360
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?  365
                         
What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only  370
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London  375
Unreal
                            
A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings  380
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

(Interpretation of lines 379-384)

                        

In this decayed hole among the mountains  385
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.  390
Only a cock stood on the roof-tree
Co co rico co co rico

In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust

Bringing rain      


Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves

 395

Waited for rain, while the black clouds

 

Gathered far distant, over Himavant.

 

The jungle crouched, humped in silence.

 

Then spoke the thunder

 

DA

 400

Datta: what have we given?

 

My friend, blood shaking my heart

 

The awful daring of a moment’s surrender

 

Which an age of prudence can never retract

 

By this, and this only, we have existed

 405

Which is not to be found in our obituaries

 

Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider

 

Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor

 

In our empty rooms

 

DA

 410

Dayadhvam: I have heard the key

 

Turn in the door once and turn once only

 

We think of the key, each in his prison

 

Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison

 

Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours

 415

Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus

 

DA

 

Damyata: The boat responded

 

Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar

 

The sea was calm, your heart would have responded

 420

Gaily, when invited, beating obedient

 

To controlling hands

 

 

I sat upon the shore

 

Fishing, with the arid plain behind me

 

Shall I at least set my lands in order?

 425

 

London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down

 

 

Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina

 

Quando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallow

 

Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie

 

These fragments I have shored against my ruins

 430

Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe.

 

Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

 

 

      Shantih    shantih    shantih

Peace-world-peace-9444894-1920-1200

Everlasting Peace

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