Bob Terwilliger wrote:

> Bob Terwilliger was obviously drunk when he posted:
>
> >> ----------------------
> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
> >> ----------------------
> >>
> >> The Anthem
> >> --------------
> <snip>
> >> Aleister Crowley
> >> Gnostic Mass.
> >> The Office of the Anthem.
> >> Liber ABA.
>
> I've always liked this better:

Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?

You have made an obvious statement i have just not made up my mind yet
precisely what it is.

As an invitation to discuss the relative merits of the poetry quoted i
could get a bit enthusiastic about but other wise, no. I mangled the
"One Star In Sight" sadly i could not find my text.

And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
---
J (IO PAN IO PAN) L

> The Hollow Men
>
> I
>
> We are the hollow men
> We are the stuffed men
> Leaning together
> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
> Our dried voices, when
> We whisper together
> Are quiet and meaningless
> As wind in dry grass
> Or rats' feet over broken glass
> In our dry cellar
>
> Shape without form, shade without colour,
> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
>
> Those who have crossed
> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
> Violent souls, but only
> As the hollow men
> The stuffed men.
>
> II
>
> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
> In death's dream kingdom
> These do not appear:
> There, the eyes are
> Sunlight on a broken column
> There, is a tree swinging
> And voices are
> In the wind's singing
> More distant and more solemn
> Than a fading star.
>
> Let me be no nearer
> In death's dream kingdom
> Let me also wear
> Such deliberate disguises
> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
> In a field
> Behaving as the wind behaves
> No nearer --
>
> Not that final meeting
> In the twilight kingdom
>
> III
>
> This is the dead land
> This is cactus land
> Here the stone images
> Are raised, here they receive
> The supplication of a dead man's hand
> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
>
> Is it like this
> In death's other kingdom
> Waking alone
> At the hour when we are
> Trembling with tenderness
> Lips that would kiss
> Form prayers to broken stone.
>
> IV
>
> The eyes are not here
> There are no eyes here
> In this valley of dying stars
> In this hollow valley
> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
>
> In this last of meeting places
> We grope together
> And avoid speech
> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
>
> Sightless, unless
> The eyes reappear
> As the perpetual star
> Multifoliate rose
> Of death's twilight kingdom
> The hope only
> Of empty men.
>
> V
>
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> Prickly pear prickly pear
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> At five o'clock in the morning.
>
> Between the idea
> And the reality
> Between the motion
> And the act
> Falls the Shadow
>
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> Between the conception
> And the creation
> Between the emotion
> And the response
> Falls the Shadow
>
> Life is very long
>
> Between the desire
> And the spasm
> Between the potency
> And the existence
> Between the essence
> And the descent
> Falls the Shadow
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> For Thine is
> Life is
> For Thine is the
>
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> Not with a bang but a whimper.
>
> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)