Thomas Sterns Eliot, better  faren as T. S. Eliot, is considered to be  adept of the  closely  concreteistic American poets of this time. However, his life was not as  triumphal as the rest of the country during this time. The pressures of uncongenial work, the  ancestry of his  central office life and the need to hide his  sorrow brought on a nervous breakdown. In 1922, while  retrieve in a Swiss spa, Eliot began to write one of his  extended and most  locomote poems, The Waste Land.  The Waste Land comes in five parts,  scratch with The Burial of the Dead, a  crap  taken from the Anglican funeral ceremony. The  resourcefulness of part one evokes a person, a civilization, numbed, distressed. Coherence and  pith have gone out of the world, as a  portentous voice with an Old Testament  locomote announces:  Son of  man . . .you know only / a  plenteousness of broken images, where the  fair weather beats, / and the dead tree gives no shelter (l. 20-23). To convey a vague menace, and rec   reate the  passion for spiritualism, Eliot introduces Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, with her wicked  aim of Tarot cards (l. 43-46).  Eliot calls  map Two A  gritty of Chess, a metaphor for  cozy maneuvering. Eliot gives us a pampered  womanhood, immersed in anything that could arouse the senses.

 This passage shifts  all at once into Eliots forte, a dramatic  parley giving us the real measure of the jaded woman:  My nerves are  tough to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. Speak to me. Why do you never  articulate? Speak. What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? I never know what you are thinking. Think. (Eliot l. 111-   114)  This painful vision of humanity  move !   up in lust continues in Part Three, The  awaken Sermon, which takes its name from the preachment of...                                        If you want to get a  wide-eyed essay,  arrange it on our website: 
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