10 Jul https://allpoetry.com/The-Hollow-MenThe Hollow MenMistah Kurtz-he

https://allpoetry.com/The-Hollow-MenThe Hollow MenMistah Kurtz-he dead              A penny for the Old Guy I      We are the hollow men      We are 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;      Those who have crossed      With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom      Remember us-if at all-not as lost      Violent souls, but only      As the hollow men      The stuffed men. II      Eyes I dare not meet in dreams      In death’s dream kingdom      These do not appear:      There, the eyes are      Sunlight on a broken column      There, is a tree swinging      And voices are      In the wind’s singing      More distant and more solemn      Than a fading star.      Let me be no nearer      In death’s dream kingdom      Let me also wear      Such deliberate disguises      Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves      In a field      Behaving as the wind behaves      No nearer-      Not that final meeting      In the twilight kingdom III      This is the dead land      This is cactus land      Here the stone images      Are raised, here they receive      The supplication of a dead man’s hand      Under the twinkle of a fading star.      Is it like this      In death’s other kingdom      Waking alone      At the hour when we are      Trembling with tenderness      Lips that would kiss      Form prayers to broken stone. IV      The eyes are not here      There are no eyes here      In this valley of dying stars      In this hollow valley      This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms      In this last of meeting places      We grope together      And avoid speech      Gathered on this beach of the tumid river      Sightless, unless      The eyes reappear      As the perpetual star      Multifoliate rose      Of death’s twilight kingdom      The hope only      Of empty men. V Here we go round the prickly pear      Prickly pear prickly pear      Here we go round the prickly pear      At five o’clock in the morning.      Between the idea      And the reality      Between the motion      And the act      Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom      Between the conception      And the creation      Between the emotion      And the response      Falls the Shadow Life is very long      Between the desire      And the spasm      Between the potency      And the existence      Between the essence      And the descent      Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom      For Thine is      Life is      For Thine is the This is the way the world ends      This is the way the world ends      This is the way the world ends      Not with a bang but a whimper.