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Poetry

The building of a failed mystery.

Pound knew the Victorian mechanists had reduced mankind to reason and reason to algorithm. He wanted the old Gods back. But the Gods were not with power in an age of technology. He tried to build a neopagan mystery, and failed.

The critics still like the poem. I think it is one of his weaker ones.

The Return

See, they return; ah, see the tentative
Movements, and the slow feet,
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain
Wavering!

See, they return, one, and by one,
With fear, as half-awakened;
As if the snow should hesitate
And murmur in the wind,
and half turn back;
These were the “Wing’d-with-Awe,”
inviolable.

Gods of the wing├Ęd shoe!
With them the silver hounds,
sniffing the trace of air!

Haie! Haie!
These were the swift to harry;
These the keen-scented;
These were the souls of blood.

Slow on the leash,
pallid the leash-men!

Ezra Pound