Lustra of Ezra Pound

left no quiver in the veins, who now Moving among the trees, and clinging in the air she severed, Fanning the grass she walked on then, endures: Grey olive leaves beneath a rain-cold sky. THE REST O helpless few in my country, 0 remnant enslaved 1 Artists broken against her, A-stray, lost in the villages, Mistrusted, spoken-against, Lovers of beauty, starved, Thwarted with systems, Helpless against the control; You who can not wear yourselves out By persisting to successes, You who can only speak, Who can not steel yourselves into reiteration; You of the finer sense, Broken against false knowledge, You who can know at first hand, Hated, shut in, mistrusted: Take thought: 1 have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile. LES MILLWIN The little Millwins attend the Russian Ballet. The mauve and greenish souls of the little Millwins Were seen lying along the upper seats Like so many unused boas. The turbulent and undisciplined host of art students ? The rigorous deputation from " Slade "? Was before them. With arms exalted, with fore-arms Crossed in great futuristic X's, the art students Exulted, they beheld the splendours of Cleopatra. And the little Millwins beheld these things; With their large and anaemic eyes they looked out upon this configuration. Let us therefore mention the fact, For it seems to us worthy of record. FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS Come, my songs, let us ...