Ezra Pound

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

Ezra Pound Poems

41. To Dives 4/1/2010
42. National Song (E.C.) 4/1/2010
43. Satiemus 4/1/2010
44. Famam Librosque Cano 4/1/2010
45. Poem By The Bridge At Ten-Shin 4/1/2010
46. The Gypsy 4/1/2010
47. Les Millwin 4/1/2010
48. L'Homme Moyen Sensuel 4/1/2010
49. Yeux Glauques 4/1/2010
50. Exile’s Letter 4/1/2010
51. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iii 4/1/2010
52. To-Em-Meps ‘the Unmoving Cloud' 4/1/2010
53. Monumentum Aere, Etc. 4/1/2010
54. Dompna Pois De Me No'Us Cal 4/1/2010
55. The Faun 4/1/2010
56. Salvationists 4/1/2010
57. Tempora 4/1/2010
58. Ortus 4/1/2010
59. Cantus Planus 4/1/2010
60. The Bellaires 4/1/2010
61. Pagani’s, November 8 4/1/2010
62. Simulacra 4/1/2010
63. The Altar 4/1/2010
64. Gentildonna 4/1/2010
65. Provincia Deserta 4/1/2010
66. Arides 4/1/2010
67. South-Folk In Cold Country 4/1/2010
68. The Patterns 4/1/2010
69. Image From D'Orleans 4/1/2010
70. Homage To Sextus Propertius - V 4/1/2010
71. Impressions Of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire) 4/1/2010
72. The Three Poets 4/1/2010
73. In Exitum Cuiusdam 4/1/2010
74. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ii 4/1/2010
75. Poetic Eggs 4/1/2010
76. The Condolence 4/1/2010
77. Phanopoeia 4/1/2010
78. Donna Mi Prega 4/1/2010
79. Safe And Sound 4/1/2010
80. Women Before A Shop 4/1/2010

Comments about Ezra Pound

  • Emeni Phimu (11/12/2009 5:49:00 AM)

    tell me full reference of this poem also difficult words and word meaning including examples

    29 person liked.
    55 person did not like.
  • Uriah Hamilton (7/12/2005 8:31:00 AM)

    Mad twentieth century poet
    Of brilliance!

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

Histrion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
Save reflexions of their souls.
Thus am I Dante for a space and am
One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief,
Or am such holy ones I may not write
Lest blasphemy be writ against my name;

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