| T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917. |
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| 11. Conversation Galante |
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| I OBSERVE: “Our sentimental friend the moon! | |
| Or possibly (fantastic, I confess) | |
| It may be Prester John’s balloon | |
| Or an old battered lantern hung aloft | |
| To light poor travellers to their distress.” | 5 |
| She then: “How you digress!” | |
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| And I then: “Someone frames upon the keys | |
| That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain | |
| The night and moonshine; music which we seize | |
| To body forth our own vacuity.” | 10 |
| She then: “Does this refer to me?” | |
| “Oh no, it is I who am inane.” | |
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| “You, madam, are the eternal humorist, | |
| The eternal enemy of the absolute, | |
| Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist! | 15 |
| With your air indifferent and imperious | |
| At a stroke our mad poetics to confute—” | |
| And—“Are we then so serious?” | |
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