T.S. Eliot

Picture of T.S. Eliot

Thomas Stearns "T. S." Eliot (26 September 1888 –
4 January 1965) was a British essayist, publisher, playwright, literary and social critic, and "one of the twentieth century's major poets". He moved from his native United States to England in 1914 at the age of 25, settling, working, and marrying there.

Eliot attracted widespread attention for his poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (1915), which was seen as a masterpiece of the Modernist movement, soon followed by "The Waste Land" (1922) and "The Hollow Men" (1925). He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1948, "for his outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry".

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (excerpt)

Let us go then, 
                                        you 
                                                      and 
                                                                      I, 
When the evening is                      s          p          r         e        a          d                   o         u        t                       against the sky 
                                                                       Like a patient etherized upon a table; 
Let us go, 
                                                          through certain                          half-deserted streets, 
The muttering retreats 
                          Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels 
                                                                                    And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: 
                                                                                                                                    Streets that follow like a tedious argument 
                                                                                    Of insidious intent 
To lead you to an overwhelming question ... 
                                                                                       Oh, do not ask, 
                                                                                             “What 
                                                                                                  is 
                                                                                                 it?” 
                                                                             Let us go and make our visit. 

In the room the women come and go 
Talking of Michelangelo. 

                                                            The    yellow       fog         that      rubs      its     back    upon     the              window-panes, 
                                                                 The      yellow     smoke     that     rubs     its    muzzle      on      the         window-panes, 
 Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, 
                                                                  Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, 
                                                                                                  Let fall upon its back the soot that f
                                                                                                                                                             a
                                                                                                                                                                l
                                                                                                                                                                   l
                                                                                                                                                                     s from chimneys, 
                                                                                             ea
                         Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden l            p, 
                                                                   And seeing that it was a soft October night, 
                                                                   Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. 

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