“I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallow”

“The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panesThe yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panesLicked its tongue into the corners of the eveningLingered upon the pools that stand in drainsLet fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneysSlipped by the terrace, made a sudden leapAnd seeing that it was a soft October nightCurled once about the house, and fell asleep”

“Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?”

“I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”

“For I have known them all already,known them all.Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;I know the voices dying with a dying fall,Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?”

“I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.”

“These fragments I have shored against my ruins”