Poems (Eliot, 1920)/La Figlia Che Piange
For other versions of this work, see La Figlia Che Piange.
La Figlia Che Piange
O quam te memorem virgo . . .
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—Lean on a garden urn—Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise—Fling them to the ground and turnWith a fugitive resentment in your eyes:But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,So I would have had her stand and grieve,So he would have leftAs the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,As the mind deserts the body it has used.I should findSome way incomparably light and deft,Some way we both should understand,Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand.
She turned away, but with the autumn weatherCompelled my imagination many days,Many days and many hours:Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.And I wonder how they should have been together! I should have lost a gesture and a pose.Sometimes these cogitations still amazeThe troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
THE END.