Page:Poems Eliot, 1926.djvu/20

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And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
·····
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets.
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
·····
And the the afternoon, the evening, isbps So peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here's no great matter;

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