of 'the end' and 'the beginning'

"What we call the beginning is often the end
 And to make an end is to make a beginning.
 The end is where we start from." 

---

"THE WINTER evening settles down
 With smell of steaks in passageways.
 Six o’clock.
 The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
 And now a gusty shower wraps         
 The grimy scraps
 Of withered leaves about your feet
 And newspapers from vacant lots;
 The showers beat
 On broken blinds and chimney-pots,          
 And at the corner of the street
 A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
 And then the lighting of the lamps."

--- 

Well, just an illustration, if you like.

CR


From: Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: Sunday, May 20, 2012 2:37 PM
Subject: The Mode of Eliot's Poetry

Consider, s'il vous plaît,

When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table; 

This is just one instance from the whole corpus of Eliot's poetry. 
I'm not proposing the consideration of just the 'Love Song' here.
Please consider all the poetry Eliot chose to publish. 

AND THIS IS THE CLAIM I'M MAKING FOR THIS POETRY -- 
THAT HERE IS THE ONLY POETRY OF ITS TYPE WHERE

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph.

From first to last? You'll ask. Aye, and that's the miracle.

Where every phrase, if not every word, invites you
to reflect harder, and still harder, to reach out
to its absolute meaning. 

As, indeed, the master explicitly desired. 
I had had occasion to refer to the maestro's dictum
about the need to assert the 'absolute' meaning of
a poem even if it meant different things to different
readers.

LET us go then, you and I ...

CR