His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.

I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.

Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with The Complete Poems and Plays of T. S. Eliot Faber and Faber, London and Boston 1969 p. 23

First published in Blast, July 1915

Authorship

• by T. S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot (1888 - 1965), no title, appears in Preludes, no. 4 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

• by Stanley Grill (b. 1953), "Prelude IV", copyright © 1978 [soprano, violin and cello], from Preludes, no. 4, confirmed with an online score [ sung text verified 1 time]
• by Howard Swanson (1907 - 1978), "His soul stretched tight across the skies", published 1952 [medium voice and piano], from 4 Preludes, no. 4. [ sung text not verified ]

Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2009-04-24
Line count: 16
Word count: 92