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T S Eliot's Poetry, by written

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  •       Twelve o¹clock.
          Along the reaches of the street
    85 lines
  •   Thou hast nor youth nor age
      But as it were an after dinner sleep
    85 lines
  • Tra-la-la-la-la-la-laire—nil nisi divinum stabile
      est; caetera fumus—the gondola stopped, the old
    46 lines
  • Malheur à la malheureuse Tamise!
    Tamisel Qui coule si pres du Spectateur.
    22 lines
  • En Amerique, professeur;
    En Angleterre, journaliste;
    20 lines
  • Ils ont vu les Pays-Bas, ils rentrent à Terre Haute;
    Mais une nuit d'été, les voici à Ravenne,
    16 lines
  • The broad-backed hippopotamus
    Rests on his belly in the mud;
    46 lines, 2 comments
  • Le garcon délabré qui n'a rien à faire
    Que de se gratter les doigts et se pencher sur mon épaule:
    31 lines
  • Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
    Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
    48 lines
  • S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
    A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
    157 lines, 17 comments
  • Thou hast committed—
      Fornication: but that was in another country
    144 lines, 1 comment
  • They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
    And along the trampled edges of the street
    9 lines
  • The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
    Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.
    9 lines
  • Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
    And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
    13 lines
  • Miss Nancy Ellicott Strode across the hills and broke them,
    Rode across the hills and broke them--
    12 lines
  • When Mr. Apollinax visited the United States
    His laughter tinkled among the teacups.
    21 lines
  • As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her
    laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were
    15 lines, 1 comment
  • I observe: "Our sentimental friend the moon!
    Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
    18 lines
  • 'A cold coming we had of it,
    Just the worst time of the year
    44 lines, 2 comments
  • Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw—
    For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
    48 lines, 3 comments
  • Sunday: this satisfied procession
    Of definite Sunday faces;
    16 lines
  • We are the hollow men
    We are the stuffed men
    121 lines, 14 comments
  • The children who explored the brook and found
    A desert island with a sandy cove
    43 lines
  • Because I do not hope to turn again
    Because I do not hope
    0 lines, 1 comment
  • Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones—
    In fact, he's remarkably fat.
    43 lines, 1 comment
  • Eyes that last I saw in tears
    Through division
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
    Is a strong brown god—sullen, untamed and intractable,
    262 lines
  • Midwinter spring is its own season
    Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
    288 lines
  • Growltiger was a Bravo Cat, who travelled on a barge:
    In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large.
    69 lines
  • Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.
    His name, as I ought to have told you before,
    57 lines, 1 comment
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