magic lantern

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

If one, settling a pillow by her head

                                        Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

                                        That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

                                        “That is not it at all,

                                        That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Questions on T.S. Eliot: 

  1. Who is the speaker of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock“?
  2. The speaker compares the sunset to a “patient etherised upon a table.” Why do you suppose Prufrock would compare a sunset to some hospital patient who has been anesthetized and is waiting for an operation?
  3. The speaker refers to the surrounding cityscape as having “one-night cheap hotels” and “sawdust restaurants.” What is this part of town like, apparently?
  4. What is the yellow fog compared to in a simile? How is the fog like such a creature?
  5. What does Prufrock mean when he says, “There will be time, there will be time / To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet”? Have you ever had to “prepare a face” before you have met someone? Why would one try to prepare an artificial face?
  6. Prufrock reassures himself that there will be “Time to turn back and descend the stair.” What does he mean by this, i.e., what can he do if he changes his mind? Why do you suppose T. S. Eliot chooses the verb descend rather than ascend? Does this connect with the Dante quotation about a guy trapped in hell in any way?
  7. Why doesn’t Prufrock compare himself to a complete crab? Why is a crab particularly appropriate for Prufrock generally? (Research about the way crabs travel and see how it matches the way Prufrock travels through life….)
  8. Why is Prufrock agonizing over how to wear his trousers?
  9. What’s odd about the way Prufrock contemplates combing his “hair behind”? Does one normally comb his hair from the rear to cover the forward part of the head? What does this suggest about the aging Prufrock’s hair and why he combs his hair forward this way?
  10. Why is Prufrock stymied by the thought of eating peach? Why would eating a peach in public be problematic for him
  11. Prufrock imagines himself under the water with the mermaids in “chambers of the sea.” What happens at the end though when he hears the conversation of human voices around him that awakens him from his daydream?