“The Dry Salvages” | No. 3 of the ‘Four Quartets’ by T.S. Eliot, 1946
I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong brown god—sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities—ever, however, implacable.
Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.
His rhythm was present in the nursery bedroom,
In the rank ailanthus of the April dooryard,
In the smell of grapes on the autumn table,
And the evening circle in the winter gaslight….
Mississippi State University: National Poetry Month 2023
Monday | 22 April | Colloquium 15:00 UTC
Tuesday | 23 April | Colloquium 15:00 UTC
Wednesday | 24 April | Colloquium 15:00 UTC
Thursday | 25 April | Colloquium 15:00 UTC
Friday | 26 April | Colloquium 15:00 UTC
Saturday | 27 April
Sunday | 28 April