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Poems (1920)

Tekijä: T. S. Eliot

JäseniäKirja-arvostelujaSuosituimmuussijaKeskimääräinen arvioKeskustelut
323744,708 (3.64)-
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Portrait of a Lady Thou hast committed Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew Of Malta. Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself as it will seem to do With " I have saved this afternoon for you "; And four wax candles in the darkened room, Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead, An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and finger-tips. " So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul Should be resurrected only among friends Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room." And so the conversation slips Among velleities and carefully caught regrets Through attenuated tones of violins Mingled with remote cornets And begins. " You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, (For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind How keen you are ) To find a friend who has these qualities, Who has, and gives Those qualities upon which friendship lives. How much it means that I say this to you Without these friendships life, what cauchemar " Among the windings of the violins And the ariettes Of cracked cornets Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own, Capricious monotone That is at least one definite " false note." Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance, Admire the monuments Discuss the late events, Correct our watches by the public clocks. Then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks. Now that l...… (lisätietoja)
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näyttää 3/3
This small collection of poetry was enlightening. It contains, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and a few other dynamic pieces of poetry. While some of the poems are a near miss, especially the ones that Eliot tries to concentrate in a comic vein, it is still a worthwhile collection expounding upon Eliot's gift as a poet. I recommend it for poetry lovers, at least for the historical foundations of what Eliot inspired.

3.5 stars. ( )
  DanielSTJ | Jul 4, 2019 |
I was surprised by Eliot's poetry, which had more humor to it than I expected. Some of it was obscure but even those were not unpleasant. This collection of 24 poems included 4 that were entirely in French, which is one reason for 4 stars rather than 5 (my French is too rusty to effectively tackle poetry!).

Probably the most famous poem in the collection is The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (The Wasteland is NOT in this volume). I think that, upon first reading at least, my favorite is A Cooking Egg; however, this is a collection I will be rereading. ( )
  leslie.98 | Jun 16, 2014 |
The mood of quiet urban urbanised despair pervades these poems. These works are good, not his best. Eliot uses a lot of quoting foreign languages in this collection. In his day perhaps educated men would nod and smile and take a draw on their pipes. But not me. ( )
1 ääni questbird | Jul 23, 2010 |
näyttää 3/3
ei arvosteluja | lisää arvostelu
Sinun täytyy kirjautua sisään voidaksesi muokata Yhteistä tietoa
Katso lisäohjeita Common Knowledge -sivuilta (englanniksi).
Teoksen kanoninen nimi
Alkuteoksen nimi
Teoksen muut nimet
Alkuperäinen julkaisuvuosi
Henkilöt/hahmot
Tärkeät paikat
Tärkeät tapahtumat
Kirjaan liittyvät elokuvat
Epigrafi (motto tai mietelause kirjan alussa)
Omistuskirjoitus
Ensimmäiset sanat
Sitaatit
Viimeiset sanat
Erotteluhuomautus
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
This work is the collection of 12 poems published in 1920: Gerontion / Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar / Sweeney Erect / A Cooking Egg / Le Directeur / Mélange Adultère de Tout / Lune de Miel / The Hippopotamus / Dans le Restaurant / Whispers of Immortality / Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service / Sweeney among the Nightingales
Julkaisutoimittajat
Kirjan kehujat
Alkuteoksen kieli
Kanoninen DDC/MDS
Kanoninen LCC

Viittaukset tähän teokseen muissa lähteissä.

Englanninkielinen Wikipedia

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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Portrait of a Lady Thou hast committed Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew Of Malta. Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself as it will seem to do With " I have saved this afternoon for you "; And four wax candles in the darkened room, Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead, An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and finger-tips. " So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul Should be resurrected only among friends Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room." And so the conversation slips Among velleities and carefully caught regrets Through attenuated tones of violins Mingled with remote cornets And begins. " You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, (For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind How keen you are ) To find a friend who has these qualities, Who has, and gives Those qualities upon which friendship lives. How much it means that I say this to you Without these friendships life, what cauchemar " Among the windings of the violins And the ariettes Of cracked cornets Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own, Capricious monotone That is at least one definite " false note." Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance, Admire the monuments Discuss the late events, Correct our watches by the public clocks. Then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks. Now that l...

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