The Hollow Men

T. S. Eliot

1888 to 1965

Track 1

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Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

Between the emotion

And voices are

The hope only

The eyes are not here

Are quiet and meaningless

This is the way the world ends

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the

Leaning together

Behaving as the wind behaves

These do not appear:

Sightless, unless

In this hollow valley

Such deliberate disguises

Let me also wear

Under the twinkle of a fading star.

In a field

For Thine is the Kingdom

Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves

Our dried voices, when

In the twilight kingdom

Between the desire

Here we go round the prickly pear

For Thine is the Kingdom

In our dry cellar

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Is it like this

Life is very long

This is the way the world ends

Between the idea

Between the conception

Between the essence

In death’s dream kingdom

And the act

This is the dead land

And the response

A penny for the Old Guy

At five o’clock in the morning.

In the wind’s singing

The supplication of a dead man’s hand

Life is

We whisper together

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

Lips that would kiss

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom

Or rats’ feet over broken glass

And the spasm

Between the potency

We grope together

And the existence

For Thine is

Form prayers to broken stone.

Trembling with tenderness

In this valley of dying stars

We are the stuffed men

No nearer—

And the descent

This is cactus land

Between the motion

Of empty men.

Prickly pear prickly pear

As the perpetual star

Falls the Shadow

The eyes reappear

More distant and more solemn

Are raised, here they receive

Let me be no nearer

In death’s dream kingdom

Those who have crossed

Not that final meeting

And the creation

As wind in dry grass

Violent souls, but only

Than a fading star.

There, is a tree swinging

Falls the Shadow

Here we go round the prickly pear

We are the hollow men

At the hour when we are

In death’s other kingdom

Multifoliate rose

There, the eyes are

And avoid speech

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

This is the way the world ends

Of death’s twilight kingdom

Remember us—if at all—not as lost

There are no eyes here

Waking alone

In this last of meeting places

As the hollow men

III

Shape without form, shade without colour.

Sunlight on a broken column

And the reality

Here the stone images

Not with a bang but a whimper.

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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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