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A Selection of Poems by T S Eliot - Listed by Extract
At mating time the hippo's voice betrays inflexions hoarse and odd
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Human kind cannot bear very much reality
The growing terror of nothing to think about
The salt is on the briar rose, the fog is in the fir trees
Ash on an old man's sleeve is all the ash the burnt roses leave
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs
When the day's hustle and bustle is done, then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse
So that nothing untoward may chance to disturb Deuteronomy's rest
The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, are proud and implacable passionate foes
He is always deceiving you into believing that he's only hunting for mice
He scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye
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