I had never seen war, or even talked about it at length with someone who had, but I was young and knew something of violence, and so believed that war would be no more than a new experience for me, as other things… had been new experiences. War is not a new experience; it is a new world… Even its geography is new, because it is a geography in which insignificant hills and hollows are lifted to the importance of cities.
“Who is she coming, that the roses bend
Their shameless heads to do her passing honour?
Who is she coming with a light upon her
Not born of suns that with the day’s end end?
Say is it Love who hath chosen the nobler part?
Say is it Love, that was divinity,
Who hath left his godhead that his home might be
The shameless rose of her unclouded heart?
If this be Love, where hath he won such grace?
If this be Love, how is the evil wrought,
That all men write against his darkened name?
If this be Love, if this …
O mind give place!
What holy mystery e’er was noosed in thought?
Own that thou scan’st her not, nor count it shame!”
Ezra Pound | “Chi È Questa?”