T. S. Eliot,
Ezra Pound: His Metric and Poetry
“ Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran— of Swinburne, or the mossiness of Mallarmé, Pound's verse is always definite and concrete, because he has always a definite emotion behind it. Though I've roamed through many places, None there is that my heart troweth Fair as that wherein fair groweth One whose laud here interlaces Tuneful words, that I've essayed. Let this tune be gently played Which my voice herward upraises. ”
