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 Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The
supplication of a dead man's hand Under the twinkle of a fading star.
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 the 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 Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is Life is For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
T. S. Eliot.
1925.
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