The Journey of the Magi (1927)

T. Southward. Eliot

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"A common cold coming we had of it,
But the worst fourth dimension of the year
For a journey, and such a long journeying:
The ways deep and the weather abrupt,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying downwards in the melting snow.
In that location were times nosotros regretted
The summertime palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running abroad, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the dark-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time nosotros had of information technology.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, maxim
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn nosotros came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a h2o-factory beating the darkness,
And 3 trees on the low heaven,
And an old white equus caballus galloped away in the meadow.
And so nosotros came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six easily at an open door dicing for pieces of silverish,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
Only there was no data, so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment likewise presently
Finding the identify; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would practise it over again, but ready down
This set downwards
This: were we led all that way for
Nascency or Death? There was a nativity, certainly,
We had prove and no dubiety. I had seen birth and expiry,
But had idea they were different; this Nascency was
Hard and bitter agony for usa, like Decease, our death.
Nosotros returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease hither, in the old dispensation,
With an conflicting people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of some other decease.

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