Tarnished we! Tarnished! Wastrels all!And yet the art goes on, goes on.Broken our strength, yea as crushed reeds wefall,And yet the art, the *art* goes on.Bearers of beauty flame and wane,The sunset shadow and the rose's bloom.The sapphire seas grow dull to shine againAs new day glistens in the old day's room.Broken our manhood for the wrack and strain;Drink of our hearts the sunset and the cry"Io Trumphe!" Tho our lips be slainWe see art vivant, and exult to die.
>>25302525It's shit. Too many metaphors.
>>25302525It's good but inferior to its 19th century precedents. I'm assuming this is an early Pound poem for its overt Pre-Raphaelite flavour and regular metre.
>>25302921From his first book A Lume Spento I believe
Bump.
>>25302868kys