Personae

“PARACELSUS IN EXCELSISBeing no longer human, why should IPretend humanity or don the frail attire?Men have I known and men, but never oneWas grown so free an essence, or becomeSo simply element as what I am.The mist goes from the mirror and I see.Behold! the world of forms is swept beneath-Turmoil grown visible beneath our peace,And we that are grown formless, rise above-Fluids intangible that have been men,We seem as statues round whose high-risen baseSome overflowing river is run mad,In us alone the element of calm.””

— Ezra Pound

“I wonder why the wind, even the wind doth seemTo mock me now, all night, all night, andHave I strayed among the cliffs hereThey say, some day I'll fallDown through the sea-bit fissures, and no moreKnow the warm cloak of sun, or batheThe dew across my tired eyes to comfort them.They try to keep me hid within four walls.I will not stay!””

— Ezra Pound

“Till now they send him dreams and no more deed;So doth he flame again with might for action,Forgetful of the council of the elders,Forgetful that who rules doth no more battle,Forgetful that such might no more cleaves to himSo doth he flame again toward valiant doing.””

— Ezra Pound

“We claim no glory. If the tempest rollsAbout us we have fear, and thenHaving so small a stake grow bold again.We know not definitely even thisBut 'cause some vague half knowing half doth missOur consciousness and leaves us feelingThat somehow all is well, that sober, reelingFrom the last carouse, or in what measureOf so called right or so damned wrong our leisureRuns out uncounted sand beneath the sun,That, spite your carping, still the thing is doneWith some deep sanction, that, we know not how,Sans thought gives us this feeling; you allowThat this not need we know our every thoughtOr see the work shop where each mask is wroughtWherefrom we view the world of box and pit,Careless of wear, just so the mask shall fitAnd serve our jape's turn for a night or two.””

— Ezra Pound