GERONTION ANALYSIS PDF

Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew of Malta. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and fingertips. How keen you are!

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Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both. Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. I was neither at the hot gates Nor fought in the warm rain Nor knee deep in the salt marsh, heaving a cutlass, Bitten by flies, fought.

My house is a decayed house, And the Jew squats on the window sill, the owner, Spawned in some estaminet of Antwerp, Blistered in Brussels, patched and peeled in London. The goat coughs at night in the field overhead; Rocks, moss, stonecrop, iron, merds. The woman keeps the kitchen, makes tea, Sneezes at evening, poking the peevish gutter.

I an old man, A dull head among windy spaces. Signs are taken for wonders. In the juvescence of the year Came Christ the tiger In depraved May, dogwood and chestnut, flowering judas, To be eaten, to be divided, to be drunk Among whispers; by Mr. Vacant shuttles Weave the wind. I have no ghosts, An old man in a draughty house Under a windy knob. After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions, Guides us by vanities.

Think now She gives when our attention is distracted And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions That the giving famishes the craving. Think Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes. These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree. The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours. Think at last We have not reached conclusion, when I Stiffen in a rented house.

Think at last I have not made this show purposelessly And it is not by any concitation Of the backward devils. I would meet you upon this honestly. I that was near your heart was removed therefrom To lose beauty in terror, terror in inquisition. I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it Since what is kept must be adulterated?

I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch: How should I use it for your closer contact? These with a thousand small deliberations Protract the profit of their chilled delirium, Excite the membrane, when the sense has cooled, With pungent sauces, multiply variety In a wilderness of mirrors. What will the spider do Suspend its operations, will the weevil Delay? De Bailhache, Fresca, Mrs. Cammel, whirled Beyond the circuit of the shuddering Bear In fractured atoms. Gull against the wind, in the windy straits Of Belle Isle, or running on the Horn, White feathers in the snow, the Gulf claims, And an old man driven by the Trades To a sleepy corner.

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A Short Analysis of T. S. Eliot’s ‘Gerontion’

Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both. Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. I was neither at the hot gates Nor fought in the warm rain Nor knee deep in the salt marsh, heaving a cutlass, Bitten by flies, fought. My house is a decayed house, And the Jew squats on the window sill, the owner, Spawned in some estaminet of Antwerp, Blistered in Brussels, patched and peeled in London. The goat coughs at night in the field overhead; Rocks, moss, stonecrop, iron, merds. The woman keeps the kitchen, makes tea, Sneezes at evening, poking the peevish gutter.

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Gerontion by T. S. Eliot: Summary

History[ edit ] Eliot was working on the poem after the end of World War One when Europe was undergoing changes as old systems of government and international relations were being replaced. During that time, Eliot was working at Lloyds Bank , editing The Egoist , and trying to publish poetry. Eliot had published in Ara Vos Prec, a limited printed work that collected his early poems including "Gerontion". In the typescript, the name of the poem is "Gerousia", referring to the name of the Council of the Elders at Sparta. When Eliot considered publishing the poem as the opening part of The Waste Land, Pound discouraged him from doing so saying, "I do not advise printing Gerontion as preface.

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Gerontion by T. S. Eliot: Critical Analysis

However, he had his roots in Old and New England. T S Eliot first began to write poetry when he was He first published his poem in while still in school. T S Eliot went on to become an essayist, a playwright and literary and social critic. A huge contributor to modernism, Eliot died at the age of 76, in of emphysema. The poem is considered to be the preface of a long and one of the most important poems of 20th century, The Waste Land written by the same poet. However, T S Eliot himself decided it as an independent one.

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