| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 290. From “Near Périgord” |
| | | By Ezra Pound |
| | | | | Ed eran due in uno, ed uno in due. Inferno, XXVIII, 125. |
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| I LOVED a woman. The stars fell from heaven. | |
| And always our two natures were in strife. | |
| Bewildering spring, and by the Auvezère | |
| Poppies and day’s eyes in the green émail | |
| Rose over us; and we knew all that stream, | 5 |
| And our two horses had traced out the valleys; | |
| Knew the low flooded lands squared out with poplars, | |
| In the young days when the deep sky befriended. | |
| And great wings beat above us in the twilight, | |
| And the great wheels in heaven | 10 |
| Bore us together … surging and apart … | |
| Believing we should meet with lips and hands. | |
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| High, high and sure … and then the counterthrust: | |
| “Why do you love me? Will you always love me? | |
| But I am like the grass, I can not love you.” | 15 |
| Or, “Love, and I love and love you, | |
| And hate your mind, not you, your soul, your hands.” | |
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| So to this last estrangement, Tairiran! | |
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| There shut up in his castle, Tairiran’s! | |
| She who had nor ears nor tongue save in her hands, | 20 |
| Gone—ah, gone—untouched, unreachable! | |
| She who could never live save through one person, | |
| She who could never speak save to one person, | |
| And all the rest of her a shifting change, | |
| A broken bundle of mirrors…! | 25 |
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