| T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917. |
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| 12. La Figlia che Piange |
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| STAND on the highest pavement of the stair— | |
| Lean on a garden urn— | |
| Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair— | |
| Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise— | |
| Fling them to the ground and turn | 5 |
| With a fugitive resentment in your eyes: | |
| But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair. | |
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| So I would have had him leave, | |
| So I would have had her stand and grieve, | |
| So he would have left | 10 |
| As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised, | |
| As the mind deserts the body it has used. | |
| I should find | |
| Some way incomparably light and deft, | |
| Some way we both should understand, | 15 |
| Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand. | |
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| She turned away, but with the autumn weather | |
| Compelled my imagination many days, | |
| Many days and many hours: | |
| Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers. | 20 |
| And I wonder how they should have been together! | |
| I should have lost a gesture and a pose. | |
| Sometimes these cogitations still amaze | |
| The troubled midnight and the noon’s repose. | |
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