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HOMAGE AND LAMENT FOR EZRA POUND IN CAPTIVITY, MAY 12, 1944, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Apprehension this spring ... The leaves, the leaves
Last Line: Still, as still as everness returning
Subject(s): Poetry & Poets; Pound, Ezra (1885-1972)




Apprehension this spring - the leaves, the leaves
still as everness returns,
defining distances with green. The space between
alive with each upon each barely in motion.
Coming into a room from hidden windows, light
reflects in shade a spotted shade of spring
having almost sound upon the ear. Four voices
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upon a warp and woof of distances
unified in light and sense of leaves, of Venus
sea-ambulant among the boughs. The numerous leaves
are still, as still as the heart in seeing, in hearing
a melody within an edifice of sound,
as sound as Brzeska's head in solid stone made, as lasting
in the heart though the particular stone be crackt.
Iconoclasts may never break that stone
once seen, once heard in the returning everness of mind.
The numerous leaves are still in seeing, in hearing.
The numerous leaves await in knowing
apprehension this spring like some crackt voice
fanatic dryad among the boughs, the melodies of mind.
Ezra, this time of year,
this deceptive real we fear lest hunting voices
overtake the hunted. Torn by wild upon the wild
evasive beauty, a mocking face recalls to mind
among the leaves, the lights, an enemy.
Far down-I hang in qualms of deep-an
old man stumbles,
mutters maledictions upon the hounds.


In this place, before Hell's door, anger-blind, l
leaves rehearse crimes. Human figures in a frieze
rehearse remembered faces. Universities, the damn
seas of human faces go down like wolves
behind the eyes to fill these distances with fire.
The desire, for all its leaves, for all of violin,
of solid stone, turns a human hurt and damnd
toward outrage's Hell. Desire has crackt
crosst eyes to see a Hell's door Heaven.
Hell's door's Heaven will never change as leaves
may change and fall like wolves
upon the human flesh and bone. Universities,
the damnd, that turn upon the damnd
with passive righteousness--another hell,
more treacherous than fire or wolves.
Far down-I voice in the wrong beauty
better than no beauty-to see a still world still
hopping mad among its calm of leaves.


We have not less to fear or hate. Old man, early
devoted voice, this afternoon as light falls down
it leaves one shining sill, promising, illusive.
The room is filld, enters in the mind, with this,
an architecture to house the mind in
Heaven-apprehending in a single phrase of Mozart
a universe, the tones, the tones like leaves of light to fall,
to reappear, establishing distances
upon the warp and woof of person not to fall.
A single window upon another scene,
a painted Mediterranean bluenose in the room
gives possession of a world by love.
Against some Mediterranean scene an old man
stumbles, mutters maledictions, sees that blue,
as Joyce once saw a sea, tighten scrotum,
mock at an old man's heart.


He screams abominations, curses, seeing a gull
fly up upon the wind, seeing an early eagerness
falter and drift to be toucht by usury.
What still and wondrous knowledge
avails then? to know as leaves, as sea of soul
gives out, no longer capable to eager green,
to see each upon each barely in motion as
still as everness return. Apprehension this spring
... the leaves, the leaves,
still, as still as everness returning.






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