We are the hollow men
We're the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. (Alas!)
Our dried voices (when we whisper together)
Are quiet (and meaningless) as wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass (in our dry cellar)
Shape without form (shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion)
Let me wear disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin
Behaving as the wind behaves
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here they receive the supplication of a dead man's hand
Waking alone
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
We're the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. (Alas!)
Our dried voices (when we whisper together)
Are quiet (and meaningless) as wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass (in our dry cellar)
Shape without form (shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion)
Let me wear disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin
Behaving as the wind behaves
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here they receive the supplication of a dead man's hand
Waking alone
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!