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“Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service” by T. S. Eliot 🇺🇸🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 (26 Sep 1888 – 4 Jan 1965)
Look look master here comes two religious
caterpillars.
The Jew of Malta.
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Polyphiloprogenitive
The sapient sutlers of the Lord
Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.
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In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of Greek text inserted here
And at the mensual turn of time
Produced enervate Origen.
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A painter of the Umbrian school
Designed upon a gesso ground
The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned
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But through the water pale and thin
Still shine the unoffending feet
And there above the painter set
The Father and the Paraclete.
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The sable presbyters approach
The avenue of penitence;
The young are red and pustular
Clutching piaculative pence.
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Under the penitential gates
Sustained by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.
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Along the garden-wall the bees
With hairy bellies pass between
The staminate and pistilate
Blest office of the epicene.
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Sweeney shifts from ham to ham
Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools
Are controversial polymath.