Ezra Pound

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

Ezra Pound Poems

161. The Game Of Chess 4/1/2010
162. Commission 4/1/2010
163. Alf’s Fourth Bit 4/1/2010
164. The Tea Shop 4/1/2010
165. Ladies 4/1/2010
166. Alf’s Eighth Bit 4/1/2010
167. Villonaud For This Yule 1/3/2003
168. La Regina Avrillouse 1/3/2003
169. April 4/1/2010
170. Song In The Manner Of Housman 1/3/2003
171. Quies 1/3/2003
172. Histrion 1/3/2003
173. Medallion 1/1/2004
174. An Object 4/1/2010
175. Historion 1/1/2004
176. Amities 4/1/2010
177. Sub Mare 1/1/2004
178. Invern 1/1/2004
179. Ité 1/3/2003
180. Envoi 1/3/2003
181. Ezra On The Strike 1/1/2004
182. Notes For Canto Cxx 1/20/2003
183. Silet 1/1/2004
184. From "Hugh Selwyn Mauberly" 1/20/2003
185. A Villonaud: Ballad Of The Gibbet 4/1/2010
186. Sestina: Altaforte 1/3/2003
187. Ione, Dead The Long Year 1/3/2003
188. Ts'Ai Chi'H 1/1/2004
189. Albatre 4/1/2010
190. The Jewel Stairs' Grievance 1/3/2003
191. Villanelle: The Psychological Hour 1/1/2004
192. The Summons 1/1/2004
193. Song Of The Bowmen Of Shu 1/3/2003
194. Statement Of Being 1/1/2004
195. Nicotine 1/1/2004
196. Grace Before Song 1/1/2004
197. The Fault Of It 1/1/2004
198. Ancient Wisdom, Rather Cosmic 4/1/2010
199. Fan-Piece, For Her Imperial Lord 1/3/2003
200. The Lake Isle 1/3/2003

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

    30 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

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.

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