| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 293. Further Instructions |
| | | By Ezra Pound |
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| COME, my songs, let us express our baser passions. | |
| Let us express our envy for the man with a steady job and no worry about the future. | |
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| You are very idle, my songs; | |
| I fear you will come to a bad end. | |
| You stand about the streets. You loiter at the corners and bus-stops, | 5 |
| You do next to nothing at all. | |
| You do not even express our inner nobility; | |
| You will come to a very bad end. | |
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| And I? I have gone half cracked. | |
| I have talked to you so much that I almost see you about me, | 10 |
| Insolent little beasts! Shameless! Devoid of clothing! | |
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| But you, newest song of the lot, | |
| You are not old enough to have done much mischief. | |
| I will get you a green coat out of China | |
| With dragons worked upon it. | 15 |
| I will get you the scarlet silk trousers | |
| From the statue of the infant Christ at Santa Maria Novella; | |
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| Lest they say we are lacking in taste, | |
| Or that there is no caste in this family. | |
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