Ezra Pound

Pound was born in Hailey, Idaho, but spent most of his youth in Pennsylvania. In 1908, he went to London and, from that year to 1911, he published six volumes of poetry. In 1912, he modernized his style and launched the Imagist movement, which stressed concreteness, economy, and free verse. His Imagist style soon gave way to Vorticism. Through Pound's association with visual artists, he was able to see how poems could be made up, like post-Cubist sculptures, of juxtaposed masses and planes.

His hopes and dreams were dashed by WWI, from which he is said to have never recovered. His free-verse poem "Homage" is a defence of the private and erotic in poetry against the imperialistic jingoism promoted by war. Pound left London in 1920, spent some time in France and then settled in Rapallo, Italy, in 1924. "The Cantos" was published in 1925.

In the 1930s, Pound was actively defending fascism and trying to avert war. When war broke out, he gave a series of fanatical addresses to American troops, which were broadcast on Rome Radio. Due to these addresses, he was arrested by partisans in 1945 and handed over to the US forces. His jail time brought about an artistic recovery.

Pound was a leader in the modern movement and responsible for the renewal of English poetry in 1910. After his release from prison, he returned to Italy, dying in Venice in 1972. Despite moments of defiance, his last years were overshadowed by self-doubt and consciousness of his "errors and wrecks." His political views still color his reputation as a great artist.

The River-Merchant's Wife

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the look out?

At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-yen, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fu-Sa.