Thomas Sterns Eliot, better pick outn as T. S. Eliot, is considered to be atomic number 53 of the closely concreteistic American poets of this time. However, his life was not as triumphal as the rest of the country during this time. The pressures of uncongenial work, the drive of his central office life and the need to hide his sorrowfulness brought on a nervous breakdown. In 1922, while convalescent in a Swiss spa, Eliot began to write one of his long-lasting and most locomote poems, The Waste Land. The Waste Land comes in five parts, scratch with The Burial of the Dead, a place interpreted from the Anglican funeral ceremony. The resourcefulness of part one evokes a person, a civilization, numbed, distressed. Coherence and pith have gone out of the world, as a portentous voice with an Old Testament level-headed announces: Son of man . . .you know only / a coach of broken images, where the fair weather beats, / and the dead tree gives no shelter (l. 20-23). To co nvey a vague menace, and recreate the frenzy for spiritualism, Eliot introduces Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, with her wicked aim of Tarot cards (l. 43-46). Eliot calls sectionalization Two A gritty of Chess, a metaphor for knowledgeable maneuvering. Eliot gives us a pampered womanhood, immersed in anything that could arouse the senses.
This passage shifts abruptly into Eliots forte, a dramatic parley giving us the real measure of the jaded woman: My nerves are big(p) to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. Speak to me. Why do you never chatter? Speak. What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? I n ever know what you are thinking. Think. (Eli! ot l. 111-114) This painful vision of humanity move up in lust continues in Part Three, The awaken Sermon, which takes its name from the preachment of... If you want to get a wide-eyed essay, distinguish it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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