I Is it like this In death's other kingdom We are the hollow men Waking alone We are the stuffed men At the hour when we are Leaning together Trembling with tenderness Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Lips that would kiss Our dried voices, when Form prayers to broken stone. We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless IV As wind in dry grass or rats' feet over broken glass The eyes are not here In our dry cellar There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars Shape without form, shade without colour, In this hollow valley Paralysed force, gesture without motion; This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms Those who have crossed In this last of meeting places With direct eyes, to death's other kingdom We grope together Remember us - if at all - not as lost And avoid speech Violent souls, but only Gathered on this beach of this tumid river As the hollow men The stuffed men. Sightless, unless The eyes reappear II As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Eyes I dare not meet in dreams Of death's twilight kingdom In death's dream kingdom The hope only These do not appear: Of empty men. There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column V There, is a tree swinging And voices are Here we go round the prickly pear In the wind's singing Prickly pear prickly pear More distant and more solemn Here we go round the prickly pear Than a fading star. At five o'clock in the morning. Let me be no nearer Between the idea In death's dream kingdom And the reality Let me also wear Between the motion Such deliberate disguises And the act Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves Falls the Shadow In a field Behaving as the wind behaves For Thine is the Kingdom No nearer - Between the conception Not that final meeting And the creation In the twilight kingdom Between the emotion And the response III Falls the Shadow This is the dead land Life is very long This is cactus land Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent
I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other kingdom Remember us - if at all - not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men. II Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death's dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind's singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death's dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer - Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom III This is the dead land This is cactus land Is it like this In death's other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone. IV The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of this tumid river Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death's twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men. V Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o'clock in the morning. Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent
ap_lit_poetry_set_2.docx