Ezra Pound

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

In The Old Age Of The Soul - Poem by Ezra Pound

I do not choose to dream; there cometh on me
Some strange old lust for deeds.
As to the nerveless hand of some old warrior
The sword-hilt or the war-worn wonted helmet
Brings momentary life and long-fled cunning,
So to my soul grown old -
Grown old with many a jousting, many a foray,
Grown old with namy a hither-coming and hence-going -
Till now they send him dreams and no more deed;
So doth he flame again with might for action,
Forgetful of the council of elders,
Forgetful that who rules doth no more battle,
Forgetful that such might no more cleaves to him
So doth he flame again toward valiant doing.


Comments about In The Old Age Of The Soul by Ezra Pound

  • (12/13/2005 8:16:00 PM)

    A wily man indeed, with his cheeky references to Don Quixote. Oh, I love Ezra Pound. (Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: lust, war, dream



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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