Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.

Come, my friend, and remember

that the rich have butlers and no friends,

And we have friends and no butlers.

Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feet

like a gilded Pavlova

And I am near my desire.

Nor has life in it aught better

Than this hour of clear coolness

the hour of waking together.

 

 

***

Ezra Pound

Poems by Ezra Pound