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Ezra Pound - The Fault of It

Some may have blamed us that we cease to speak
Of things we spoke of in our verses early,
Saying: a lovely voice is such as such;
Saying: that lady's eyes were sad last week,
Wherein the world's whole joy is born and dies;
Saying: she hath this way or that, this much
Of grace, this way or that, this much
Of grace, this little misericorde;
Ask us no further word;
If we were proud, then proud to be so wise
Ask us no more of all the things ye heard;
We may not speak of them, they touch us nearly.

Added: Apr 1 2005 | Viewed: 2422 times | Comments and analysis of The Fault of It by Ezra Pound Comments (0)


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Poet: Ezra Pound
Poem: The Fault of It
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