Unreal City

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened.

He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on thinght. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel free.

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relife,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock.

Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And I will show you something different from ether
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;”

“They called me the hyacinth girl.”

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,

Here, said she.
Is your card, the drowned Phoencian sailor,
Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look

I do not find

The Hanged man. Fear death by water.

Here, said she.
Is your card, the drowned Phoencian sailor,
Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look