By T. S. Eliot
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.  
Paralyzed 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
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.

