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The Hippopotamus

Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic habeo. S. IGNATII AD TRALLIANOS

And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.

The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.

Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the true church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.

The hippo's feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.

The 'potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.

At mating time the hippo's voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.

The hippopotamus's day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way -
The church can sleep and feed at once

I saw the 'potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.

He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all martyr'd virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in old miasmal mist.

Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)

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GOD moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

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Aunt Helen

Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven
And silence at her end of the street.
The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet --
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees --
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.

Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)


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Conversation Galante

I observe: `Our sentimental friend the moon!
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
It may be Prester John's balloon
Or an old battered lantern hung aloft
To light poor travellers to their distress.'
She then: "How you digress!"

And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys
That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our own vacuity."
She then: "Does this refer to me?"
"Oh no, it is I who am inane."

"You, madam, are the eternal humorist,
The eternal enemy of the absolute,
Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist!
With your air indifferent and imperious
At a stroke our mad poetics to confute --"
And -- "Are we then so serious?"

Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)


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ºòÈÕ¥¨¥ê¥ª¥Ã¥È¤Î»í¤Ë½Ð²ñ¤Ã¤¿¡£¥µ¥¤¥È¤ÏSelected Poetry of Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)¤Ç¤¢¤ë¡£Ãøºî¸¢¤Î´Ø·¸¤Ç¡¢»ä¤Î¥Ö¥í¥°¤Ç¤Ï20À¤µª¤ÎÂçʪ»í¿Í¤Ï¥Õ¥í¥¹¥È¤À¤±¤Ç¤¢¤ë¡£»ä¤ÏͺÊÛ¤¹¤®¤ë¤È¤¤¤¦¤«¡¢¤ä¤ä¾éĹ¤Ê¥í¥Þ¥óÇɤλí¤ËÂÎÎϤò¾ÃÌפ·¤Æ¤­¤¿¡£20À¤µª¤Î»í¿Í¤È¤¤¤¦¤À¤±¤Ç¿·Á¯¤Ç¤¢¤Ã¤¿¡£¥¨¥ê¥ª¥Ã¥È¤È¤¤¤¦Ì¾Á°¤Ïʹ¤¤¤Æ¤Ï¤¤¤ë¤¬¡¢¤³¤ÎÀ¤³¦¤Ç¤Îɾ²Á¤ÏÃΤé¤Ê¤¤¡£Ìõ»í¤Ï¿Þ½ñ´Û¤Ë¤¢¤ë¤À¤í¤¦¤¬¡¢¤Þ¤Ã¤¿¤¯Ì¤ÃΤλí¿Í¤Ë½Ð²ñ¤Ã¤¿¤Î¤Ç¤¢¤ë¤«¤é¡¢»²¾È¤¹¤ë¼ê¤Ï¤Ê¤¤¡£¤µ¤Ã¤½¤¯Ä©À路¤Æ¤ß¤¿¡£

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The Boston Evening Transcript

The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.

When evening quickens faintly in the street,
Wakening the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to Rochefoucauld,
If the street were time and he at the end of the street,
And I say, "Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript."

Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)


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