Waste Paper A Poem of Profound Insignificance
By H. P. Lovecraft
Πἀντα γἐλως καἱ πἀντα κὀνις καἱ πἀντα τὁ μηδἐν
Out of the reaches of illimitable light
The blazing planet grew, and forc’d to life
Unending cycles of progressive strife
And strange mutations of undying light
And boresome books, than hell’s own self more trite
And thoughts repeated and become a blight,
And cheap rum-hounds with moonshine hootch made tight,
And quite contrite to see the flight of fright so bright
I used to ride my bicycle in the night
With a dandy acetylene lantern that cost $3.00
In the evening, by the moonlight, you can hear those darkies singing
Meet me tonight in dreamland . . . BAH
Not every critic at the time thought T. S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land” was a great poem.
