matt's poetry pocketbook:
poems and poets

from The Waste Land

T S Eliot

The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barge drifts
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs
                   Weialala leia
                   Wallala leialala

Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Ripple both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
                   Weialala leia
                   Wallala leialala