Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | October 12, 2009


by Ezra Pound (1885 – 1972).

The Garret (1916)

Come let us pity those who are better off than
     we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
     that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feet
     like a gilded Pavlova,
And I am near my desire.
Nor has life in it aught better
Than this hour of clear coolness,
     the hour of waking together.


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