Ezra Pound

(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

Ezra Pound Poems

81. Grace Before Song 1/1/2004
82. Guido Invites You Thus 4/1/2010
83. Heather 4/1/2010
84. Her Monument, The Image Cut Thereon 4/1/2010
85. Historion 1/1/2004
86. Histrion 1/3/2003
87. Homage To Quintus Septimus Florentis Christianus 4/1/2010
88. Homage To Sextus Propertius - I 4/1/2010
89. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ii 4/1/2010
90. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iii 4/1/2010
91. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iv 4/1/2010
92. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ix 4/1/2010
93. Homage To Sextus Propertius - V 4/1/2010
94. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vi 4/1/2010
95. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vii 4/1/2010
96. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Viii 4/1/2010
97. Homage To Sextus Propertius - X 4/1/2010
98. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xi 4/1/2010
99. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xii 4/1/2010
100. Horae Beatae Inscripto 4/1/2010
101. Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I) 1/3/2003
102. Image From D'Orleans 4/1/2010
103. Impressions Of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire) 4/1/2010
104. In A Station Of The Metro 1/3/2003
105. In Durance 4/1/2010
106. In Exitum Cuiusdam 4/1/2010
107. In Tempore Senectutis 1/1/2004
108. In The Old Age Of The Soul 1/1/2004
109. Invern 1/1/2004
110. Ione, Dead The Long Year 1/3/2003
111. Ité 1/3/2003
112. La Fraisne 4/1/2010
113. La Regina Avrillouse 1/3/2003
114. Ladies 4/1/2010
115. Lament Of The Frontier Guard 1/3/2003
116. Langue D'Oc 4/1/2010
117. L'Art 1/3/2003
118. Leave-Taking Near Shoku 4/1/2010
119. Les Millwin 4/1/2010
120. L'Homme Moyen Sensuel 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Ezra Pound

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Read the full of A Girl

The Garrett

Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
      that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feet
      like a gilded Pavlova
And I am near my desire.

[Hata Bildir]