And an open lament too: 

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience


On Tue, Nov 26, 2019 at 7:56 AM Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
A metaphoric lament, if you like.

                           If there were water
   And no rock
   If there were rock
   And also water
   And water
   A spring
   A pool among the rock
   If there were the sound of water only
   Not the cicada
   And dry grass singing
   But sound of water over a rock
   Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
   Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
   But there is no water


On Mon, Nov 25, 2019 at 10:35 PM Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
‘The Waste Land’ also laments Christ’s absence. 

“I do not find / The Hanged Man.” 

“The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V.” - Eliot’s Notes 


On Mon, Nov 25, 2019 at 11:12 AM Materer, Timothy J. <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
As soon as I sent my recent post, I recalled:

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?

and, in Mr Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service

But through the water pale and thin     
Still shine the unoffending feet       
And there above the painter set         
The Father and the Paraclete.

However, not inconsistent from a man who agrees with Aldington about Christ.