T S Elliot's `The One That Didn't Quite Make It`

THE SOUND OF INDIGESTION.

I have seen the custard dripping from a thousand bowls.
I have seen the tears glowing from the eyes of moles.
I have watched the sun sink in my vest.
I have worried taxies while they stood at rest.
And I was not afraid.

It might be that all was just a frenzy of forgetting.
An auspicious drowning of sensibilities.
There are nineteen reasons for French people to wear trousers,
None of them belong to me.
Have you no desire to dominate a tortoise,
Or is all just fundamental tedium,
A wish list of possible vacuum cleaners.
And still they haunt me to the coast.
The ones who should respect the flaccid tease.
The mixed herbs of summer bring us to our knees.

Napoleon haunts the trellis.
Aunt Agather of a braver hue invents seasons to be fearful.
While we dance and dance and are made mad.
Coin phrases and remissions.
A staple diet of guilt and poisoned chalices.
Drive to the sound of the wind in your liver,
Remember to tip the gift not the giver,
And sound many retreats.

"Once upon a time", to the sound of violins,
And all that is not broken will play dead.
Hamlet whispers platitudes to a wet cigar,
And all the time,
And in every way,
The men with the flattest caps refuse to pay.

I will dine on Fetta cheese said the Queen of my dreams,
I sighed and left the party, reasonably well dressed,
For someone with a hole for a heart,
And a needle for a sad reflection,
Nothing is arranged that cannot be forgotten.

And still they haunt the bruises of the well received,
As if all were signs and images of a sad retreat.