Monday, April 21, 2008

45/50

from Preludes
by T. S. Eliot

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 leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps,
And then the lighting of the lamps.

Ah, the boredom and the horror of human life. Eliot captured it like none other, I think.

Even as the Spring semester winds down (one more week!), I'm thinking ahead to Fall and teaching Modern Poetry again.

1 comment:

emmapeelDallas said...

"the smell of steaks in passageways..."

Yes, he really got it...I've always liked Eliot...

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