"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak”.

As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene.
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale

Allusion
 
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out

and biblical imagery.
 
Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you

Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
White bodies naked on the low damp ground
And bones cast in a little low dry garret.

Datta (Give): what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Dayadhvam (sympathize): I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Damyata (control): The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih

"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky",
"Like a patient etherized upon a table".

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair
— (They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin;
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")

"Now I am not prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two."

And I have known the arms already, known them all
- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
When Lil's husband got demobbed,
I said - HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Now Albert's coming back,
... I said, and think of poor Albert,
He's been in the army for four years; he wants a good time...

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
Again we find the meaninglessness in
"What is that noise?"
The wind under the door.
"What is that noise now?
What is the wind doing?"
Nothing again nothing.
"Do you know nothing?
Do you see nothing?
Do you remember "Nothing?"

"dull roots"
"A little life with dried tubers"
"A heap of broken images",
"the dead tree",
"the dry stone".
"I had not thought death had undone so many"

That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout?
Will it bloom this year?
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

“those who have crossed...to death's other kingdom”