The Waste Land

The Waste Land
by T. S. Eliot
I. The Burial of the Dead
April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
5 Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
10 And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
15 And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

20 Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
25 There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
30 I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
35 “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
“They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
40 Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed’ und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,

Had a bad cold, nevertheless
45 Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
50 The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
55 The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.

60 Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
65 And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson!
70 “You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
“Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
“Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
“Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
75 “Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!
“You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!
II. A Game of Chess
[…] “My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”
5 I think we are in rats’ alley

Where the dead men lost their bones.
“What is that noise?”

The wind under the door.
“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”
10 Nothing again nothing.
“Do

“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

“Nothing?”
I remember
15 Those are pearls that were his eyes.
“Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?”
[…] “What shall I do now? What shall I do?”

“I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
“With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
20 “What shall we ever do?”
The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
V. What the Thunder Said
[…] He who was living is now dead

We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
[…] Who is the third who walks always beside you?

5 When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
10 —But who is that on the other side of you?
[…] What is the city over the mountains

Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
15 Vienna London
Unreal

[…] Then spoke the thunder

DA
Datta: what have we given?
20 My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment’s surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
[…] DA
25 Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours
30 Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
35 Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
I sat upon the shore

Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
40 London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow
Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
45 Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih

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The Waste Land

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruellest month, breeding

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,

II. A Game of Chess

5 I think we are in rats’ alley

“What is that noise?”

“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

[…] “What shall I do now? What shall I do?”

V. What the Thunder Said

[…] He who was living is now dead

[…] Who is the third who walks always beside you?

[…] What is the city over the mountains

[…] Then spoke the thunder

I sat upon the shore

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