Imagism

Virtual Class

Imagism

The 3 Rules of Imagism

Famous Imagists

H.D

Oread- by H.D
Whirl

up, sea Whirl your

pointed pines. Splash your great
pines On our rocks. Hurl your
green over us Cover us with
your pools of fir.

Helen- by H.D
All

Greece hatesthe still eyes in the white

face,the lustre as of oliveswhere she
stands,and the white hands.All Greece
revilesthe wan face when she smiles,
hating it deeper still when it grows wan
and white,remembering past
enchantmentsand past ills.Greece sees,
unmoved, God's daughter, born of love,
the beauty of cool feetand slenderest
knees,could love indeed the maid,only if
she were laid,white ash amid funereal
cypresses.

Ezra Pound

A girl- by Ezra Pound

The

tree has entered my hands,

The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast Downward,The branches grow
out of me, like arms.Tree you are,
Moss you are,You are violets with
wind above them.A child - so high
- you are,And all this is folly to
the world.

The Charge Of The Bread

Brigade- By Ezra Pound
Half

a loaf, half a loaf,Half a loaf? Urn-hum?Down

through the vale of gloomSlouched the ten million,
Onward th' 'ungry blokes,Crackin' their smutty jokes!
We'll send 'em mouchin' 'ome,Damn the ten million!
There goes the night brigade,They got no steady
trade,Several old so'jers knowMonty has blunder'd.
Theirs not to reason why,Theirs but to buy the pie,
Slouching and mouching,Lousy ten million!Plenty to
right of 'em,Plenty to left of 'em,Yes, wot is left of 'em,
Damn the ten million.Stormed at by press and all,
How shall we dress 'em all?Glooming and mouching!
See 'em go slouching there,With cowed and
crouching airDundering dullards!How the whole
nation shookWhile Milord BeaverbrookFed 'em with
hogwash!

James Joyce

I Hear An Army Charging Upon

The Land- by James Joyce
I

hear an army charging upon the land, And the

thunder of horses plunging, foam about their
knees: Arrogant, in black armour, behind them
stand, Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips,
the charioteers. They cry unto the night their
battle-name: I moan in sleep when I hear afar
their whirling laughter. They cleave the gloom of
dreams, a blinding flame, Clanging, clanging upon
the heart as upon an anvil. They come shaking in
triumph their long, green hair: They come out of
the sea and run shouting by the shore. My heart,
have you no wisdom thus to despair? My love, my
love, my love, why have you left me alone?

Amy Lowell

A Lady- by Amy Lowell

You

are beautiful and faded Like an old

opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or
like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenthcentury boudoir. In your eyes Smoulder the
fallen roses of out-lived minutes, And the
perfume of your soul Is vague and
suffusing, With the pungence of sealed
spice-jars. Your half-tones delight me, And I
grow mad with gazing At your blent
colours. My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet. Gather it up from
the dust, That its sparkle may amuse you.

Decade- by Amy Lowell

When

you came, you were like

red wine and honey, And the
taste of you burnt my mouth with
its sweetness. Now you are like
morning bread, Smooth and
pleasant. I hardly taste you at all
for I know your savour, But I am
completely nourished.