The Hollow Men

T. S. Eliot

1888 to 1965

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Are quiet and meaningless

Form prayers to broken stone.

Between the idea

And the response

In death's dream kingdom

As wind in dry grass

Lips that would kiss

Falls the Shadow

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

This is the way the world ends

And the existence

In this hollow valley

Behaving as the wind behaves

Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

These do not appear:

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

In our dry cellar

Trembling with tenderness

And the reality

Not that final meeting

Life is very long

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

A penny for the Old Guy

More distant and more solemn

The eyes reappear

Between the conception

Of death's twilight kingdom

This is the way the world ends

Remember us—if at all—not as lost

Between the potency

Here the stone images

Life is

For Thine is the Kingdom

Than a fading star.

In death's other kingdom

Falls the Shadow

Prickly pear prickly pear

Between the desire

Violent souls, but only

For Thine is

And the descent

And the act

And avoid speech

There, is a tree swinging

In the wind's singing

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

We are the stuffed men

Are raised, here they receive

Between the motion

Shape without form, shade without colour.

For Thine is the Kingdom

We whisper together

And the spasm

And voices are

At the hour when we are

Under the twinkle of a fading star.

In this valley of dying stars

This is the way the world ends

III

Sightless, unless

In death's dream kingdom

There, the eyes are

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

In this last of meeting places

There are no eyes here

The eyes are not here

In the twilight kingdom

In a field

At five o'clock in the morning.

This is cactus land

For Thine is the

Not with a bang but a whimper.

Or rats' feet over broken glass

Here we go round the prickly pear

We are the hollow men

Sunlight on a broken column

Waking alone

We grope together

Is it like this

Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves

Let me also wear

Between the emotion

Let me be no nearer

And the creation

No nearer—

This is the dead land

Between the essence

Our dried voices, when

Such deliberate disguises

Here we go round the prickly pear

Those who have crossed

Falls the Shadow

Of empty men.

Leaning together

Multifoliate rose

The supplication of a dead man's hand

The hope only

As the perpetual star

As the hollow men

A penny for the Old Guy
I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour.
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

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The Hollow Men

T. S. Eliot

1888 to 1965

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