BY WAY OF EPILOGUE
THE DRY LAND
Variations
Suggested by T. S. Eliot’s Poem
THE WASTE LAND
I APRIL FIRST
April is the foolishest month, bringing 1
The First of April, bringing
Jest and youthful jollity, jingling
Bells of Merry Andrew, rattling
Dried peas in blown bladders
Full of sound and signifying
Nothing—absolutely nothing.
II THE SEA
The Dry Land yields no wine,
The Waste Land no whiskey,
And the Desert no malt liquor,
But there is moisture in spots. 10
Where there are rocks,
There also is moisture.
(Come with me here to the rocks)
What rocks? The Fleet rocks—
In the cradle of the deep.
Half a league and half a league outward,
In the sea, the sea, the open sea,
The Mariners of England
Nightly guard our shores. 20
Yo! ho! ho! and a bottle of rum,
A little wine for my stomach’s ache
And whiskey in a glass darkly.
Let us go down to the sea in ships
To-day it is our pleasure to be drunk
And this our queen shall be as drunk as we.
Ἐντεῦθεν ἐξελαύνει σταθμοὺς δύο
Παρασάγγας δέκα εἰς τὴν θάλᾶτταν
Alack! alack! turn back! turn back!
For I am suffering a sea-change 30
Or something. Pull for the shore,
Sailor, pull for the shore!
III THE WHITE ROCK
Very well, then, here is another Rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this White Rock)
And I will show you something else again.
But that is water
And water
And also water,
Only that and nothing more.
Who would go upon a bust 40
On White Rock?
What a pallid bust it would be
On White Rock,
Only that and nothing more.
Mrs. Porter and her daughter
Washed their feet in soda-water.
They knew
What to do
With water.
IV OTHER ROCKS
Are there no other Rocks? Yes 50
Here are rocks,—bullion, scads, cash,
Banknotes, dough and all kinds of money.
What will it buy? What will it buy?
Sodas, fizzy, fuzzy, insubstantial?
Sundaes, clinging, cloying, agglutinating?
Pretty polonies and excellent peppermint drops?
Yes, all. No more? Aye, more.
But this is the Waste Land. This is the Dry Land.
Aye, but there is moisture in spots,
(Come with me here to this spot) 60
This is a Wet Spot. It will buy
Any old thing
You want.
Johnnie Walker, Haig and Haig
Black and White and Gordon Gin.
Ab-sa-tive-ly, Mr. Gallagher?
Pos-o-lute-ly, Mr. Shean!
V THE MOUNTAINS
In the highlands, where the Revenooer dozes
Where the old, kind men have rosy noses—
O the Moonshine’s right 70
In my old Kentucky home!
Here is a still and a quiet conscience.
O still! govern thou my song.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, jug, jug
And also bottles
And demijohns
By the light of, the light of the moon.
There is no water
In my old Kentucky home
Except for washing 80
And damn little for that.
There spotted snakes with double tongue
And bats with baby faces may be seen
And camels all lumpy and bumpy and humpy
A-rolling down to Bowling Green.
VI RAT’S ALLEY
I think we are in Rat’s Alley
Where the dead men roll their bones.
What is that noise? A rat i’ the arras?
Sh! Sh-h! Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h-h!
At my back in a cold blast I hear 90
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
In days of old when nights were cold
And the world was too much with us
Late and soon
He rattled his bones on the alley-stones,
A remote, unfriended, melan-
Choly coon.
He kept his maculate but honored bones
In the dark backward
And abysm of his pants. 100
He rolled ’em nightly on the alley stones
With that strange power
That erring men call chance.
And now his gentle ghost besprent with April dew
Nightly to the wandering moon complains
Ah craves action. Shoots ten dollahs.
Fade me! Fade me! Shower down boy!
Telegraph dice, click fo’ de coin!
Eagle bones, see kin you fly!
Bugle dice, blow fo’ de cash! 110
L’il snow flakes, sof’ly fall!
Gallopers, git right! Whuff! Bam!
Read ’em an’ weep!!
I never saw a Moor. I never saw the sea
And yet I know how the heather smells
And, by the same token, I can distinguish
A Moor from a Blackamoor
And the wild rose from the negroes.
VII HAT AND TEETH
Where Catherine Street descends into the Strand
There I saw one I knew and stopped him, crying 120
“Where did you get that hat? Stetson?”
“Dunlap,” he said and grinned
And showed precarious teeth.
One of the Five he was and not The One,
So Pyorrhea claimed him for her own.
VIII BANANAS
What makes the rear rank breathe so hard?
They are saying “But
“Yes, we have no Bananas to-day.”
O O O O that sweet Banana Rag,
It is so beautiful, 130
So fruitiful.
But, yet, we have no bananas to-day.
This day, so calm, so cool, so bright
We have not a
Single damn ba-
Nana, yes.
What shall I do now? What shall I do?
I shall rush out just as I am without one plea
And buy cocoanuts.
IX APRIL AGAIN
Yes, April is the foolishest month, bringing 140
The First of April. On that day I wrote this,
Tongue in cheek, twinkle
In eye, laughter in sleeve and
It shall shake the World,
Insofar as the World is composed of
Serious, sophisticated,
Impressionistic, expressionistic,
Futuristic, cubistic
Immature, Dadaists, blinking
Through horn spectacles 150
With horn lenses as well as
Horn frames, who shall read
What is not written, hear
What is not spoken, understand
What is cryptic only because it is
Nonsense.
Eeny meeny miney mo
Omne ignotum pro magnifico
Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten.
Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate 160
Da Dada Dadaism
Ha Haha Hahaism
Silly Sillier Silliest
NOTES
Not only the title but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the poem were suggested by Mr. T. S. Eliot’s poem The Waste Land. Indeed, so deeply am I indebted, Mr. Eliot’s poem will elucidate the difficulties of my poem much better than my notes can do; and I recommend it (apart from the amusement to be derived from it) because my poem will seem more lucid by contrast.
Following Mr. Eliot’s example, I have availed myself of the work of fellow bards. Credit has not been given in these notes in every case, but will be extended freely on application to our Credit Department.
I
- Lines 1–7
- Cf. The Waste Land, l.1–7.
II
- 11.
- A phenomenon commonly observed.
- 14.
- V. The Waste Land 1.26.
- 23.
- St. Timothy I Timothy 23.
- 25–6.
- V. H. Fielding Tom Thumb the Great I, Sc. II.
- 27–28.
- Cf. Xenophon Anabasis, passim.
- 31–32.
- V. Moody and Sankey Hymnal No. 1.
III
- 34.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.26.
- 36–7.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.348–9.
- 45.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.199–201.
IV
- 59.
- Inquire of any policeman or taxi-driver.
- 64–5.
- This list is incomplete. For full particulars inquire as above.
- 66–7.
- I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are taken.
V
- 68–69.
- Cf. R. L. Stevenson, In the Highlands.
- 70–71.
- Old song.
- 72.
- Cf. W. Shakspeare Henry VIII Act 3, Sc. 2.
- 73.
- V. John Milton Paradise Lost Bk. 7, 1.29.
- 74.
- V. The Waste Land 1.204.
- 78–9.
- So reported by travellers.
- 83.
- Cf. The Waste Land, 1.379.
- 85.
- Old song. This Bowling Green is not in The N. Y. Evening Post but in Ky.
VI
- 86–7.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.115–116.
- 90.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.185.6.
- 92.
- Cf. Old song.
- 96–7.
- Cf. Oliver Goldsmith The Traveller l.1.
- 99–100.
- Cf. W. Shakspeare The Tempest Act 1, Sc. 2.
- 102–3.
- Cf. J. Milton Comus.
- 104.
- V. B. Jonson Elegy on Lady Jane Pawlett.
- 106–13.
- V. Hugh Wiley, passim.
- 114–15.
- V. Emily Dickinson Poems.
VII
- 120–1.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.69.
- 123.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.339.
- 124–5.
- V. Current advertisements.
VIII
- 128.
- Old song of unknown origin.
- 129–31.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.128–130.
- 137–8.
- Cf. The Waste Land l.131.2.
IX
- 156.
- Cf. The Waste Land passim.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
| Page | Changed from | Changed to |
|---|---|---|
| 2 | to his room and look off all his clothes. He | to his room and took off all his clothes. He |
| 21 | Clavering’s nerves rippled, but the man next him | Clavering’s nerves rippled, but the man next to him |
| 23 | a passing taxicab, smashed the area windows, burst | a passing taxicab, smashed the area windows, and burst |
- Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.