Summary of Andrea del Sarto

The poem begins with the speaker, the artist Andrea del Sarto, asking his wife, Lucrezia, to come and sit with him for a moment without fighting. He wants
the two of them to have a quite moment together before he jumps into a reflection of his life. The speaker begins by describing the passage of time and the
lack of control he feels he had over his life.
The speaker then spends the majority of the poem discussing how his skill level compares to the work of other artists. He knows that he has more skill than
others such as Michelangelo or Raphael, but his art does not have the soul the other’s are able to tap into. Somehow they have been able to enter heaven
and leave with inspiration that he never receives. The artist is disappointed by this fact as no one seems to value his own art the way he thinks they should.
At points he tries to put most of the blame for his life onto his wife. He thinks that she is the one that has been holding him back. He points out the fact that
the other artists don’t have the same impediment. He thinks about the time that he spent in France working for the king. There, he was applauded by the
court but then forced back to Italy by his wife who was tired of the way things were.
By the end of the poem he concludes that although his life has not been what he wanted he knows that he cannot change it. He is happy to have spent this
time with his wife and says as much to her. This nice moment is interrupted by the arrival of Lucrezia’s cousin. This “cousin” is demanding money from
del Sarto to help pay off gambling debts. He gives in to the request and tells his wife, solemnly and sadly, that she can go.

But do not let us quarrel any more,

No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once:
Sit down and all shall happen as you wish.
You turn your face, but does it bring your heart?
I’ll work then for your friend’s friend, never fear,
Treat his own subject after his own way,
Fix his own time, accept too his own price,
And shut the money into this small hand
When next it takes mine. Will it? tenderly?
Oh, I’ll content him,—but to-morrow, Love!
The speaker of this poem, Andrea del Sarto, begins the piece by addressing his wife. These two will be the predominant characters that feature in this poem and
many parts of the monologue are clearly spoken to Lucrezia.
He asks her at the beginning of the poem if they can just have one moment in which they are not fighting or “quarrel[ing].” He hopes that she will listen to him
for just this once as he has every intention of conceding to her wishes. Lucrezia turns her face towards the speaker but he does not believe that she is genuine.
He asks her if she brought “her heart” to their conversation.
Del Sarto tells his wife that he is willing to do what she asked and pay or lend money to her “friend’s friend. It is unclear why the friend is in need of money but
he promises to do it “to-morrow.”

I often am much wearier than you think,

This evening more than usual, and it seems
As if—forgive now—should you let me sit
Here by the window with your hand in mine
And look a half-hour forth on Fiesole,
Both of one mind, as married people use,
Quietly, quietly the evening through,
I might get up to-morrow to my work
Cheerful and fresh as ever. Let us try.
To-morrow, how you shall be glad for this!
He confesses to her at the beginning of this section, in attempt to keep her full attention, that oftentimes he is much “wearier” than she might think, and
especially so this evening.
To help remedy this weariness, del Sarto asks that Lucrezia come and sit by him, with her hand in his, and look out on “Fiesole,” a section of Florence, Italy.
Together there thy will sit “quietly,” and maybe be able to refresh themselves for the next day.

Your soft hand is a woman of itself,

And mine the man’s bared breast she curls inside.
Don’t count the time lost, neither; you must serve
For each of the five pictures we require:
It saves a model. So! keep looking so—
My serpentining beauty, rounds on rounds!
—How could you ever prick those perfect ears,
Even to put the pearl there! oh, so sweet—
The speaker is deeply endeared by the feeling of his wife’s hand. He sees it as being a representation of her entire body that can curl inside his own, a
representation of “the man’s bared breast.”
He is cherishing the way in which his wife appears to him in this moment. He sees her as being a “serpentining beauty” that will serve him as the model for “five
pictures” that he is planning. He says that it will save them money that way and he would rather paint her anyway. She’s so perfect and pristine that he can’t
imagine why she would ever even pierce her ear to wear earrings.

My face, my moon, my everybody’s moon,

Which everybody looks on and calls his,
And, I suppose, is looked on by in turn,
While she looks—no one’s: very dear, no less.
You smile? why, there’s my picture ready made,
There’s what we painters call our harmony!
A common greyness silvers everything,—
All in a twilight, you and I alike
—You, at the point of your first pride in me
 (That’s gone you know),—but I, at every point;
My youth, my hope, my art, being all toned down
To yonder sober pleasant Fiesole.
He continues to lavish praise on his wife as he thinks about her image hanging in the homes of men that have purchased his work. Each of these men look on the
painting and consider it their’s but she does not belong to any of them.
The speaker seems to believe that Lucrezia is the ideal model for his work as he says that with one smile from her he is able to compose a whole painting. That is
all the inspiration that he needs. She is what “painters call our harmony!” She is his muse.
He remembers a time when they were both new to one another, when they first met. Initially she was proud of who he was and what he was going to be, but he
knows that is “gone.” Additionally, he says that back then he had his, “youth…hope…[and] art” that he was living through. All this has been “toned down” later
in life as things did not turn out quite like he expected.

There’s the bell clinking from the chapel-top;

That length of convent-wall across the way
Holds the trees safer, huddled more inside;
The last monk leaves the garden; days decrease,
And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Eh? the whole seems to fall into a shape
As if I saw alike my work and self
And all that I was born to be and do,
A twilight-piece. Love, we are in God’s hand.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead;
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
From where the two are sitting overlooking Fiesole, he can hear the chiming or “clinking” of a bell “from the chapel-top” as well as observe the church and the
“last monk” leaving the garden for the day.
The speaker then takes a moment here to ponder the way in which “we,” he and Lucrezia, as well as all of humankind, are in “God’s hand.” Time is passing,
giving him the opportunity to look back on his life and see if he was able to accomplish what he wanted. He recognizes that the life God makes for “us” is both
free and “fettered.”

I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!

This chamber for example—turn your head—
All that’s behind us! You don’t understand
Nor care to understand about my art,
But you can hear at least when people speak:
And that cartoon, the second from the door
—It is the thing, Love! so such things should be—
Behold Madonna!—I am bold to say.
The speaker believes that God made a “fetter” for human life and let it do what it wanted to. At this point in the poem the speaker begins to lament the career
that he did not quite have.
He believes that all those throughout his life did not truly understand his art. They did not care to take the time to truly see it.
Del Sarto does mention a instance of happiness, that was more than likely reoccurring, as people commented from afar that his “cartoon,” or sketch for a
painting, was just “the thing.” Many have felt “Love!” For his work, but just not to the extent that he feels he deserves.

I can do with my pencil what I know,

What I see, what at bottom of my heart
I wish for, if I ever wish so deep—
Do easily, too—when I say, perfectly,
I do not boast, perhaps: yourself are judge,
Who listened to the Legate’s talk last week,
And just as much they used to say in France.
At any rate ’tis easy, all of it!
The artist knows the skills that he possesses, and he can feel his own ability, coming from his heart, that allows him to create anything. It is easy for him to do
“perfectly” what others struggle with.
He does interject here to say that he does not want to sound like he’s bragging, but “you,” meaning Lucrezia, know of “my” ability and the ease with which “I”
create.

No sketches first, no studies, that’s long past:

I do what many dream of, all their lives,
—Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do,
And fail in doing. I could count twenty such
On twice your fingers, and not leave this town,
Who strive—you don’t know how the others strive
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,—
Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says,
(I know his name, no matter)—so much less!
The speaker goes on, allowing himself a few more lines of self indulgence saying that he has never needed to sketch or study a subject before he draws it.
He is able to do what many “strive to do, and agonize to do, / And fail in doing.” There are many such men in this town.

Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.

There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,
 Heart, or whate’er else, than goes on to prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman’s hand of mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know,
Reach many a time a heaven that’s shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the world.
My works are nearer heaven, but I sit here.
While these men may envy the ease with which he creates perfect paintings, he does not have something that they do. They have in them a true light of God
that exists in their “vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain.” These men are blessed by God but also suffer for his gifts.
Del Sarto goes back to speaking about himself, using an insult that is often cast his way. He calls his own hand that of a “craftsman” that does not create with
heart, only with skill. His art and his mind are “shut” out of heaven where the other men are readily entering and exiting with the subjects they paint. He can get
close to heaven, but not quite all the way.

The sudden blood of these men! at a word—

Praise them, it boils, or blame them, it boils too.
I, painting from myself and to myself,
Know what I do, am unmoved by men’s blame
Or their praise either. Somebody remarks
Morello’s outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
The speaker has now worked himself into a serious frustration at the state of his own artistic ability. He is trying to find flaws in “these men” that are able to tap
into divine subject matter. While del Sarto sees himself as being even tempered, “these men” are easy to upset and quick to cast blame on others.
Whenever someone comments on his work and critiques his efforts he thinks, “what of that?” He doesn’t care if he is criticized for how something is drawn
because he knows his own skill.

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,

Or what’s a heaven for? All is silver-grey,
Placid and perfect with my art: the worse!
I know both what I want and what might gain,
And yet how profitless to know, to sigh
“Had I been two, another and myself,
“Our head would have o’erlooked the world!” No doubt.
Yonder’s a work now, of that famous youth
The Urbinate who died five years ago.
(‘Tis copied, George Vasari sent it me.)
All this being said, the speaker knows that a man should reach for things that might seem unattainable. He looks at his own work and sees how it is perfectly one
thing. It is “Placid” in a way that bothers him.
Even though he is able to see what he wants to create, he is unable to imbue his art with the soul that other’s works have. He knows that if he had been “two”
different people in one body, himself, and someone with the skill of Michelangelo, he would have conquered the world of art.
From where the speaker is sitting he references a piece of art across the room. This line drags the audience back into the physical room with del Sarto and
Lucrezia. The piece that he is referencing was sent to him by “George Vasari,” the famous Italian biographer of artists and their works.

Well, I can fancy how he did it all,

Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see,
Reaching, that heaven might so replenish him,
Above and through his art—for it gives way;
That arm is wrongly put—and there again—
A fault to pardon in the drawing’s lines,
Its body, so to speak: its soul is right,
He means right—that, a child may understand.
This particular piece is easy for the speaker to break down. He knows how it was painted and how the artist “Pour[ed] his soul” into the art for “kings and popes
to see.”
The art may be beautiful in its conception but del Sarto, with his eye for detail, can see that the “arm is wrongly put” and that there are faults in the “drawing’s
lines.” These details are excused by other viewers as it’s “soul is right.” All may understand that, even a child.

Still, what an arm! and I could alter it:

But all the play, the insight and the stretch—
(Out of me, out of me! And wherefore out?
Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul,
We might have risen to Rafael, I and you!
Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I think—
More than I merit, yes, by many times.
But had you—oh, with the same perfect brow,
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth,
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird
The fowler’s pipe, and follows to the snare —
Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind!
Even del Sarto understands that even if the arm is not quite right, it is still beautiful. He knows that with his skill he could fix it.
Once more he bemoans the fact that he was not given the soul to rise above everyone else. He could have even surpassed “Rafael.” He refers to himself and
Lucrezia as rising together through the ranks of the art world and that if she with all of her perfections of physical beauty, only brought with her a mind that
might have improved del Sarto’s life. He is casting part of his disappointment in himself onto her.

Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged

“God and the glory! never care for gain.
“The present by the future, what is that?
“Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo!
“Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!”
I might have done it for you. So it seems:
Perhaps not. All is as God over-rules.
Beside, incentives come from the soul’s self;
The rest avail not. Why do I need you?
What wife had Rafael, or has Agnolo?
Some women, the speaker states, do bring brains with them into their marriages. Why, he thinks, didn’t his wife? The next lines of the poem are what the
speaker wishes his wife had said to him throughout his life.
If she had really wanted to help his career and further his art she would have told him that he should give all glory to God without caring for “gain.” He should be
attempting to raise himself to the status of “Agnolo,” meaning Michelangelo, or climb up to where “Rafael,” or Raphael, is.
If she had said this he might have done it for her. Or, he says, maybe it wouldn’t have worked that way because God controls everything. He changes his tone
here and says that it was not her fault for not speaking up to him. Instead, he should never have had a wife in the first place, like Michelangelo and Raphael.

In this world, who can do a thing, will not;

And who would do it, cannot, I perceive:
Yet the will’s somewhat—somewhat, too, the power—
And thus we half-men struggle. At the end,
God, I conclude, compensates, punishes.
‘Tis safer for me, if the award be strict,
That I am something underrated here,
Poor this long while, despised, to speak the truth.
I dared not, do you know, leave home all day,
For fear of chancing on the Paris lords.
The best is when they pass and look aside;
But they speak sometimes; I must bear it all.
In the world in which they are living, the speaker says that the men who want to do something are unable to, and the men who can do it, won’t. This is
frustrating to him and to all the “half-men” that are only blessed with half the talent they need.
He decides that it is safer for him to have been given the life he has as he was not fit for one in which he has to speak with the “Paris lords.” He claims to like it
when they ignore him.

Well may they speak! That Francis, that first time,

And that long festal year at Fontainebleau!
I surely then could sometimes leave the ground,
Put on the glory, Rafael’s daily wear,
In that humane great monarch’s golden look,—
One finger in his beard or twisted curl
Over his mouth’s good mark that made the smile,
One arm about my shoulder, round my neck,
The jingle of his gold chain in my ear,
I painting proudly with his breath on me,
All his court round him, seeing with his eyes,
Such frank French eyes, and such a fire of souls
Profuse, my hand kept plying by those hearts,—
In this stanza the speaker is slightly standing up against those that talk about him unkindly. He is remembering when he worked for the king of France, Francis,
and was at Fontainebleau for a year.
It was here that he had confidence and could put on the clothes, or stature of Raphael. This was caused by his closeness with the king. He remembers how
Francis’ clothes sounded when he walked and how he stood over his shoulder as the speaker painted. When he had this position he was admired by the French
court and with his paint he could influence them and gain confidence from their looks.

And, best of all, this, this, this face beyond,

This in the background, waiting on my work,
To crown the issue with a last reward!
A good time, was it not, my kingly days?
And had you not grown restless… but I know—
‘Tis done and past: ’twas right, my instinct said:
Too live the life grew, golden and not grey,
And I’m the weak-eyed bat no sun should tempt
Out of the grange whose four walls make his world.
How could it end in any other way?
One more he speaks directly to his wife. He remembers that in those day the best thing of all was her face waiting for him, approving of his work. He asks her if
these days were not “kingly,” and says that it is her fault, “had [she] not grown restless…” and made him leave, his future might have been brighter.
But, he concedes, what’s “done” is done. At this point in his life he is but a “weak-eyed bat” that cannot be tempted out of his routine and “four walls.” He
despondently concludes this section by saying that it could not have ended any other way.
 You called me, and I came home to your heart.
The triumph was—to reach and stay there; since
I reached it ere the triumph, what is lost?
Let my hands frame your face in your hair’s gold,
You beautiful Lucrezia that are mine!
“Rafael did this, Andrea painted that;
“The Roman’s is the better when you pray,
“But still the other’s Virgin was his wife—”
Men will excuse me. I am glad to judge
Both pictures in your presence; clearer grows
My better fortune, I resolve to think.
It appears as if Lucrezia, bored with their situation in France, had asked him to come home and so he did.
He reaches his hands up to “frame” her face and golden hair and comforts himself by remembering that she is his. He “resolve[s] to think” that ending up with
her, rather than painting something lasting, was his “better fortune.”

For, do you know, Lucrezia, as God lives,

Said one day Agnolo, his very self,
To Rafael . . . I have known it all these years . . .
(When the young man was flaming out his thoughts
Upon a palace-wall for Rome to see,
Too lifted up in heart because of it)
“Friend, there’s a certain sorry little scrub
“Goes up and down our Florence, none cares how,
“Who, were he set to plan and execute
“As you are, pricked on by your popes and kings,
“Would bring the sweat into that brow of yours!”
Andrea del Sarto continues to speak to his wife, Lucrezia, imploring her to understand the daily trauma he goes through as he thinks about his place amongst the
great artists.
He imagines a conversation between the two great Renaissance masters, Raphael and Michelangelo. He likes to think of Michelangelo saying to Raphael, as he
paints in Rome, that there is another artist that works in “our Florence” and is not acknowledged. This man, if he were to be given the same commissions that
“you,” meaning Raphael, were given, then he would give you serious competition. In an effort to retain his place as one of the greatest painters of all time,
Raphael would have “sweat” on his “brow.”
This is of course a completely imagined conversation that del Sarto thinks up as he dreams of what he wishes people thought of him.

To Rafael’s!—And indeed the arm is wrong.

I hardly dare . . . yet, only you to see,
Give the chalk here—quick, thus, the line should go!
Ay, but the soul! he’s Rafael! rub it out!
Still, all I care for, if he spoke the truth,
(What he? why, who but Michel Agnolo?
Do you forget already words like those?)
If really there was such a chance, so lost,—
Is, whether you’re—not grateful—but more pleased.
Well, let me think so. And you smile indeed!
This hour has been an hour! Another smile?
In a torrent of emotion, contrary to how he portrayed himself previously, del Sarto turns to the Raphael copy that Vasari gave him and begins to make
adjustments. He makes lines here and there, hoping to fix the arm, but then backtracks. He does not want to destroy the “soul” of the painting. “He’s Rafael!”
Anything that del Sarto does to the painting will seem trite in comparison.
The speaker, now relaxed again, thinks once more about this imagined opportunity to have the same type of commissions that Raphael received. He dreams, if
only “really there was such a chance.” He hopes that if this had been the case, Lucrezia would have be proud of him. Already an hour has passed during this
conversation and he sees it as being a productive one.

If you would sit thus by me every night

I should work better, do you comprehend?
I mean that I should earn more, give you more.
See, it is settled dusk now; there’s a star;
Morello’s gone, the watch-lights show the wall,
The cue-owls speak the name we call them by.
Come from the window, love,—come in, at last,
Inside the melancholy little house
We built to be so gay with. God is just.
He tells her that if only she would take the time to sit with him every night, that he would work “better.” He would create better work, but he would also be
able to take better care of her and give her more.
The sun has set and it has “settled dusk now.” There is a star in the sky and the owls are hooting around them. He tells her to come away from the window and
deeper into their “melancholy little house.”

King Francis may forgive me: oft at nights

When I look up from painting, eyes tired out,
The walls become illumined, brick from brick
Distinct, instead of mortar, fierce bright gold,
That gold of his I did cement them with!
Let us but love each other. Must you go?
 That Cousin here again? he waits outside?
Must see you—you, and not with me? Those loans?
More gaming debts to pay? you smiled for that?
Well, let smiles buy me! have you more to spend?
As the speaker is pondering how the king of France now regards him, he is staring around the room imagining the house transformed into a palace. His day
dream is interrupted by the appearance of his wife’s “Cousin” who is waiting for her outside. He does not want her to go, especially since the cousin is
demanding money to pay off his gambling debts.
He believes that she treated him kindly over the last hour in an attempt to get the money that her cousin needs.

While hand and eye and something of a heart

Are left me, work’s my ware, and what’s it worth?
I’ll pay my fancy. Only let me sit
The grey remainder of the evening out,
Idle, you call it, and muse perfectly
How I could paint, were I but back in France,
One picture, just one more—the Virgin’s face,
Not yours this time! I want you at my side
To hear them—that is, Michel Agnolo—
Judge all I do and tell you of its worth.
Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend.
Del Sarto feels a new pang of loss as his wife is leaving him that night. He knows that he still has his work and “some of a heart,” left but “what,” he asks, is “it
worth?”
He agrees to pay the money but only if he can be let alone to brood through the rest of the evening. He thinks that if he could only paint one more picture, it
would depict the “Virgin’s face,” and not this time modeled after Lucrezia. He wants her there beside him, not in the picture. He wants to prove himself and
have her hear all the wonderful things that the others will say about him.
But this is all tomorrow. For now he tells her she can, “satisfy” her friend.

I take the subjects for his corridor,

Finish the portrait out of hand—there, there,
And throw him in another thing or two
If he demurs; the whole should prove enough
To pay for this same Cousin’s freak. Beside,
What’s better and what’s all I care about,
Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff!
Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does he,
The Cousin! what does he to please you more?
In this stanza it becomes clear that the relationship between the cousin and Lucrezia might be romantic. The speaker seems to understand this but knows that
he cannot do anything to stop her. He gives her the “thirteen scudi” to pass on to the man, or “ruff” as he calls him.
He asks if this amount pleases her and then asks what exactly the “cousin” does to please her more? He does not expect an answer to this question.

I am grown peaceful as old age to-night.

I regret little, I would change still less.
Since there my past life lies, why alter it?
The very wrong to Francis!—it is true
I took his coin, was tempted and complied,
And built this house and sinned, and all is said.
My father and my mother died of want.
Well, had I riches of my own? you see
How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot.
The last section of the poem breaks into one more long stanza. At the end of this night as he is looking back on his life he claims to “regret little,” and desire to
“change still less.” It is hard to believe this assertion as he has spent the entire poem talking about how he wishes his life had been different.
He does know though that there is no way that he can alter his “past life.” He declares that the time he spent in France with King Francis was wrong. That he
never should have taken “his coin.” He may have been able to amass a bit of money off the king’s patronage, but he still was never happy.

They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died:
And I have laboured somewhat in my time
And not been paid profusely. Some good son
Paint my two hundred pictures—let him try!
No doubt, there’s something strikes a balance. Yes,
You loved me quite enough. it seems to-night.
This must suffice me here. What would one have?
In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance—
Four great walls in the New Jerusalem,
Meted on each side by the angel’s reed,
For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me
To cover—the three first without a wife,
While I have mine! So—still they overcome
Because there’s still Lucrezia,—as I choose.
Again the Cousin’s whistle! Go, my Love.
The last section of the poem concludes on a very solemn and self pitying note
with the speaker relating his own life to that of his parents. They were “born poor, lived poor, and poor they died.”
The speaker knows that he has “laboured” in his days on the earth and that he has not been paid well for it. He questions whether he has been a good son to his
parents and knows that other “good sons” would not have been able to paint the “two hundred pictures” that he did.
Once more he turns to Lucrezia and tells her that, yes, “You loved me quite enough,” tonight. He must be happy with what he has received from her, and from
life itself. He thinks that maybe he will have a new chance at success in heaven, but still he will have his wife. When Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and
Raphael get to heaven, they will not be married, but he will.
He concludes the poem with this reiteration, and misdirection of blame onto his wife. He tells her afterwards that now she may go as her “Cousin” is whistling at
her.

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......T. S. Stearns Eliot (1888-1965) originally entitled this poem "Prufrock Among the Women." He changed the title to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" before publishing
the poem in Poetrymagazine in 1915.

Love Song
.......The words "Love Song" seem apt, for one of the definitions of love song is narrative poem. And, of course, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is a narrative, presenting a
moment in the life of the title character. It is also a poem. In addition, the work has characteristics of most love songs, such as repetition (or refrain), rhyme, and rhythm. It also
 focuses on the womanly love that eludes Prufrock.
Origin of the Name Prufrock
.......Eliot took the last name of the title character from a sign advertising the William Prufrock furniture company, a business in Eliot's hometown, St. Louis, while he was growing
up. The initial J. and name Alfred are inventions, probably mimicking the way Eliot occasionally signed his name as a young adult: T. Stearns Eliot.

Dramatic Monologue

......."The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is a modernistic poem in the form of a dramatic monologue. A dramatic monologue presents a moment in which a narrator/speaker
discusses a topic and, in so doing, reveals his personal feelings to a listener. Only the narrator, talks—hence the term monologue, meaning "single (mono) discourse (logue)."
During his discourse, the speaker intentionally and unintentionally reveals information about himself. The main focus of a dramatic monologue is this personal information, not
the speaker's topic. Therefore, a dramatic monologue is a type of character study.

.......Eliot published "Prufrock" in Poetry magazine in 1915 and then in a collection of his poems, Prufrock and Other Observations, in 1917.

The Speaker/Narrator

.......The poem centers on a balding, insecure middle-aged man. He expresses his thoughts about the dull, uneventful, mediocre life he leads as a result of his feelings of
inadequacy and his fear of making decisions. Unable to seize opportunities or take risks (especially with women), he lives in a world that is the same today as it was yesterday
and will be the same tomorrow as it is today. He does try to make progress, but his timidity and fear of failure inhibit him from taking action.

S'io credesse che mia riposta fosse

A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,

Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.

Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo

Non torno vivo alcun, s' i'odo il vero,

Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Translation: If I thought my answer were to one who could return to the world, I would not reply, but as none
ever did return alive from this depth, without fear of infamy I answer thee. The words are spoken by Count
Guido da Montefeltro, a damned soul in the Eighth Circle of Hell in Dante's Divine Comedy (Inferno, Canto
27, lines 61-66.)
Translator and Quotation Source: G.B. Harrison et al., eds. Major British Writers. Shorter ed. New York:
Harcourt. 1967, page 1015.
Comment: Eliot opens "The Love Song" with this quotation from Dante's epic poem to suggest that Prufrock,
like Count Guido, is in hell. But Prufrock is in a hell on earth—a hell in the form of a modern, impersonal city
with smoky skies. The quotation also points out that Prufrock, again like Count Guido, can present his
feelings "without fear of infamy."

1
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

1
Summary, Interpretation: The speaker invites the listener to walk with him into the streets on an evening
that resembles a patient, anesthetized with ether, lying on the table of a hospital operating room. (Until recent
times, physicians used ether—a liquid obtained by combining sulfuric acid and ethyl alcohol—to render
patients unconscious before an operation.) The imagery suggests that the evening is lifeless and listless. The
speaker and the listener will walk through lonely streets—the business day has ended—past cheap hotels
and restaurants with sawdust on the floors. (Sawdust was used to absorb spilled beverages and food, making
it easy to sweep up at the end of the day.) The shabby establishments will remind the speaker of his own
shortcomings, their images remaining in his mind as he walks on. They will then prod the listener to ask the
speaker a question about the speaker's life—perhaps why he visits these seedy haunts, which are symbols of
his life, and why he has not acted to better himself or to take a wife.
Allusion, overwhelming question (line 10): Eliot appears to have borrowed this phrase from James Fenimore
Cooper's 1823 novel, The Pioneers, one of five novels that make up The Leatherstocking Tales (1823-1841),
about life on the frontier in early America. When he was a youth, Eliot read and enjoyed The Pioneers. In the
novel, one of the characters, Benjamin, asks a series of questions ending with the "overwhelming question."
Following is the passage:

.......“Did’ee ever see a British ship, Master Kirby? an English line-of-battle ship, boy? Where did’ee
ever fall in with a regular built vessel, with starn-post and cutwater, gar board-streak and plank-shear,
gangways, and hatchways, and waterways, quarter-deck, and forecastle, ay, and flush-deck?—tell
me that, man, if you can; where away did’ee ever fall in with a full-rigged, regular-built, necked
vessel?"
.......The whole company were a good deal astounded with this overwhelming question, and even
Richard afterward remarked that it “was a thousand pities that Benjamin could not read, or he must
have made a valuable officer to the British marine.

2
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

2
Summary, Interpretation: At a social gathering in a room, women discuss the great Renaissance artist
Michelangelo. Prufrock may wonder how they could possibly be interested in him when they are discussing
someone as illustrious as Michelango.
Allusion, The Women . . . Michelangelo (lines 13-14): Eliot borrowed most of this line from the Uruguayan-
born French poet Jules LaForgue (1860-1887). In one of his works, LaForgue wrote (in French): Dans la
piece les femmes vont et viennent / En parlant des maîtresde Sienne. Here is the loose translation: In the
room the women go and come while speaking of the Siennese (painting) masters.
Michelangelo: Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (1475-1564), Renaissance sculptor, painter, and
architect and one of the greatest artists in history. He sculpted the famous David for the Duomo Cathedral in
Florence, painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, and designed the dome of St. Peter's
Basilica, also in Vatican City.
3
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

3
Summary, Interpretation: Smoky haze spreads across the city. The haze is like a quiet, timid cat padding to
and fro, rubbing its head on objects, licking its tongue, and curling up to sleep after allowing soot to fall upon
it. The speaker resembles the cat as he looks into windows or into "the room," trying to decide whether to
enter and become part of the activity. Eventually, he curls up in the safety and security of his own soft arms—
alone, separate. What this stanza means is that Prufrock feels inferior and is unable to act decisively. He
consigns himself to corners, as a timid person might at a dance; stands idly by doing nothing, as does a
stagnant pool; and becomes the brunt of ridicule or condescension (the soot that falls on him).

4
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

4
Summary, Interpretation: There's no hurry, though, the speaker tells himself. There will be time to decide
and then to act—time to put on the right face and demeanor to meet people. There will be time to kill and time
to act; in fact, there will be time to do many things. There will even be time to think about doing things—time
to dream and then revise those dreams—before sitting down with a woman to take toast and tea.
Allusion, there will be time (line 23): This phrase alludes to the opening line of "To His Coy Mistress," by
Andrew Marvell (1621-1678): "Had we but world enough, and time." In Marvell's poem, the speaker/persona
urges his beloved not to be coy but instead to seize the moment—to take advantage of youth and "sport us
while we may." Prufrock, of course, continually postpones even meeting a woman, saying "There will be
time."
face (line 27): affectation; façade.
Allusion, works and days (line 29): Works and Days is a long poem by Hesiod, a Greek writer who lived in
the 700's B.C. "Works" refers to farm labor and "Days" to periods of the year for performing certain
agricultural chores. The poem, addressed to Hesiod's brother, was intended to instruct readers, stressing the
importance of hard work and right living and condemning moral decay.

5
In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

5
Summary, Interpretation: The women are still coming and going, still talking of Michelangelo, suggesting
that life is repetitive and dull.

6
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?" and, “Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[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!"]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

6
Summary, Interpretation: Prufrock says there will be time to wonder whether he dares to approach a
woman. He feels like turning back. After all, he has a bald spot, thinning hair, and thin arms and legs.
Moreover, he has doubts about the acceptability of his clothing. What will people think of him? Does he dare
to approach a woman? He will think about it and make a decision, then reverse the decision.
simple pin (line 43): Pin inserted through the tie and shirt to hold the tie in place.

7
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

7
Summary, Interpretation: Prufrock realizes that the people here are the same as the people he has met
many times before—the same, uninteresting people in the same uninteresting world. They all even sound the
same. So why should he do anything?
Evenings, Mornings, Afternoons: This phrase, as well as others focusing on time, refers obliquely to the
philosophy of Henri Bergson (1859-1941), author of a revolutionary and highly influential work, Time and Free
Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness. In this work, he argued that the mind perceives time
as a continuous process, a continuous flow, rather than as a series of measurable units as tracked by a clock
or a calendar or by scientific calculation. It is not a succession, with one unit following another, but a duration
in which present and past are equally real. Ordinarily, we think of a day as consisting of morning, evening,
and afternoon—in that order. But, since time is a continuous flow to Prufrock, it is just as correct to think of a
day as consisting of morning, afternoon, and evening as a single unit.
Allusion, dying fall (line 52): Phrase borrowed from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Duke Orsino speaks it in
line 4 of Act I, Scene I. Here is the passage in which the phrase appears:

If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!

8
And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

8
Summary, Interpretation: He has seen their gazes before, many times—gazes that form an opinion of him,
treating him like a butterfly or another insect pinned into place in a display. How will he be able to explain
himself to them—the ordinariness, the mediocrity, of his life?
fix (line 56): Evaluate.

9
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!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
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?

9
Summary, Interpretation: Yes, he has known women like these before, wearing jewelry but really bare,
lacking substance. Why is he thinking about them? Perhaps it is the smell of a woman's perfume.
Arms that lie along table (line 67): This phrase echoes line 3.
should I then presume? (line 68): This clause repeats words in lines 54 and 68.
how should I begin? (line 69): This clause repeats words in line 59.

10
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

10
Summary, Interpretation: Will he tell a woman that he came through narrow streets, where lonely men (like
Prufrock) lean out of windows watching life go by but not taking part in it? He should have been nothing more
than crab claws in the depths of the silent ocean.
smoke that rises from the pipes (line 71): The smoke becomes part of the haze.

11
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

11
Summary, Interpretation: The time passes peacefully. It is as if the afternoon/evening is sleeping or simply
wasting time, stretched out on the floor. Should the speaker sit down with someone and have dessert—
should he take a chance, make an acquaintance, live? Oh, he has suffered; he has even imagined his head
being brought in on a platter, like the head of John the Baptist. Of course, unlike John, he is no prophet. He
has seen his opportunities pass and even seen death up close, holding his coat, snickering. He has been
afraid.
evening . . . floor (lines 75-78): This metaphor/personification echoes the simile in lines 2 and 3.
cakes (line 79): Cakes or cookies.
ices (line 79): Ice cream.
Allusion, head brought in upon a platter (line 82): Phrase associated with John the Baptist, Jewish prophet of
the First Century AD who urged people to reform their lives and who prepared the way for the coming of
Jesus as the Messiah. John denounced Herod Antipas (4 BC-AD 39), the Roman-appointed ruler of Galilee
and Perea, for violating the law of Moses by marrying Herodias, the divorced wife of his half-brother, Philip.
(Herod Antipas and Philip were sons of Herod the Great, the Roman-appointed ruler of Judea.) In retaliation,
Herod Antipas imprisoned John but was afraid to kill him because of his popularity with the people. Salome,
the daughter of Herodias and stepdaughter of Herod Antipas, danced at a birthday party for Herod Antipas.
Her performance was so enthralling that Herod said she could have any reward of her choice. Prompted by
Herodias, who was outraged by John the Baptist's condemnation of her marriage, Salome asked for the head
of the Baptist on a platter. Because he did not want to go back on his word, Herod fulfilled her request. John
was a cousin of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Accounts of his activities appear in the Bible in the gospels of
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and in the Acts of the Apostles.
prophet (line 83): Another allusion to John the Baptist.
Footman (line 85): Servant in a uniform who opens doors, waits on tables, helps people into carriages. The
footman is a symbol of death; he helps a person into the afterlife.

12
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

12
Summary, Interpretation: Would it have been worth it for the speaker while drinking tea to try to make a
connection with one of the women? Would it have been worth it to arise from his lifeless life and dare to
engage in conversation with a woman, only to have her criticize him or reject him.
porcelain (line 89): glassware or hard, brittle people
Allusion, To have squeezed the universe into a ball (line 92): This phrase is another allusion to Marvell's "To
His Coy Mistress." (Click here to see the previous comment on Marvell's poem.) In the last stanza of that
poem, the speaker/persona says, " Let us roll all our strength and all / Our sweetness up into one ball." In
Eliot's poem, the speaker asks whether it would have been worth it to do the same thing with a woman of his
choosing.
Allusion, Lazarus (line 94): Name of two New Testament figures: (1) Lazarus of Bethany, brother of Martha
and Mary. Jesus raised him from the dead (Gospel of John, Chapter 11: Verses 18, 30, 32, 38); (2) Lazarus,
a leprous beggar (Gospel of Luke, Chapter 16: Verses 19-31). When Lazarus died, he was taken into heaven.
When a rich man named Dives died, he went to hell. He requested that Lazarus be returned to earth to warn
his brothers about the horror of hell, but his request was denied.

13
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

13
Summary, Interpretation: Would it have been worth it, considering all the times he would be with the woman
at sunset or with her in a dooryard? Would it have been worth it after all the mornings or evenings when
workmen sprinkled the streets (see sprinkled streets, below), after all the novels he would discuss with her
over tea, after all the times he heard the drag of her skirt along the floor, after so many other occasions?
Would it have been worth it if, after plumping a pillow or throwing off her shawl, she turned casually toward a
window and told him that he was mistaken about her intentions toward him?
sprinkled streets (line 101): This may be a reference to the practice of wetting dirt streets with oil or water to
control dust.
magic lantern (line 105): Early type of slide projector. The magic lantern (also called sciopticon) projected an
image from a glass plate.

14
No! 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,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

14
Summary, Interpretation: Prufrock and Hamlet (the protagonist of Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of
Denmark) are both indecisive. But Prufrock lacks the majesty and charisma of Hamlet. Therefore, he fancies
himself as Polonius, the busybody lord chamberlain in Shakespeare's play.
Allusion, Prince Hamlet (line 112): Hamlet, the protagonist of Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,
famous for his hesitancy and indecision while plotting to avenge the murder of his father, King Hamlet, by the
king's brother, Claudius. Prufrock is like young Hamlet in that the latter is also indecisive. However, Prufrock
decides not to compare himself with Hamlet, who is charismatic and even majestic in spite of his
shortcomings. Instead, Prufrock compares himself with an unimpressive character in the Shakespeare play,
an attendant lord, Polonius. (See next entry.)
Allusion, attendant lord (line 113): Polonius, the lord chamberlain in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Polonius, a
bootlicking advisor to the new king, Claudius, sometimes uses a whole paragraph of important-sounding
words to say what most other people could say in a simple declarative sentence. His pedantry makes him
look foolish at times. Prufrock, of course, is worried that the words he speaks will make him look foolish, too.
Allusion, progress (line 114): In the time of a Shakespeare, a journey that a king or queen of England made
with his or her entourage,
Allusion, high sentence: The high-flown, pretentious language of Polonius (See Allusion, attendant lord, just
above.)
Allusion, Fool (line 119): Eliot capitalizes this word, suggesting that it refers to a court jester (also called a
fool) in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. There is no living fool in Hamlet, but there is a dead one, Yorick. In a
famous scene in the play, two men are digging the grave of Ophelia when they unearth the skull of Yorick
while Hamlet is present. Picking it up, Hamlet says,

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow

of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?

In the courts of England in Shakespeare's time, a fool was a comic figure with a quick tongue who entertained
the king, the queen, and their guests. He was allowed to—and even expected to—criticize anyone at court.
Many fools were dwarfs or cripples, their odd appearance enhancing their appeal and, according to prevailing
beliefs, bringing good luck to the court.

15
I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
16
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
17
I do not think that they will sing to me. 125
18
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
19
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

15-19
Summary, Interpretation: The speaker realizes that time is passing and that he is growing old. However, like
other men going through a middle-age crisis, he considers changing his hairstyle and clothes. Like Odysseus
in the Odyssey, he has heard the song of the sirens. However, they are not singing to him.
wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled (line 121): look youthful and jaunty.
Allusion, mermaids (line 124): In Homer's Odyssey, sea nymphs who sit on a shore and sing a song so
alluring that it attracts all passing sailors who hear it. Then the sailors sit on the shore, transfixed by the song,
until they die. But Odysseus plugs the ears of his men with wax, so that they are unable to hear, after
ordering them to tie him to a mast. Thus, as they pass the island, Odysseus himself hears the song but
cannot go ashore, though he wants to, because he cannot break free of his bonds.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Easy English Explanation of The Love Song of J. Alfred

Prufrock by T.S. Eliot
Line by line discussion

Let us go then, you and I,

The poet is talking to us. He takes us on a trip, similar to the trip that Dante makes led by another poet, Virgil. Well, let’s see whether J. Alfred Prufrock will give
us the exciting round of Hell and Heaven that Dante gets in his epic poem. Don’t put your hopes up too high!

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

The opening is one of the most famous images in English literature. The night lies unconscious; it is etherized. In the past, patients were sedated (= made
unconscious) by sniffing ether.

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

Deserted means people have left.

The muttering retreats

Retreat = leaving your daily activities, for instance go to a hotel or go into your study to be alone and think. But retreat can also mean pulling back from
something unpleasant. The two meanings introduces the theme of the poem, which is of a man who has retreated from life.

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Sawdust = the little pieces of wood. In the past you could find that stuff on the floor of pubs.

Oysters are a flat, expensive shellfish.

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Tedious = tiring, something that goes on and on. And an argument is a discussion about a statement that can be right or wrong.

Of insidious intent

This refers to the argument which in this case is of “insidious intent.” Insidious means secretly dangerous, and intent = purpose.

To lead you to an overwhelming question …

The argument brings you (= the reader) to the following question that is overwhelming = you can’t get it out of your head.

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Well, the poet is not going to tell you what the question is.

Let us go and make our visit.

He invites you to make a visit, just like in the Divine Comedy, where Dante is taken to see Hell by the poet Virgil. So let’s prepare for our visit to Hell. Have you
got your gasmask on?

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

Okay, so now we expected to be in Hell, right? But instead we’re in a room full of women who must be very cultured, because they talk about Michelangelo, you
know, the Italian artist and engineer who painted the Last Judgement and the Creation of Adam. If I’ll show you this picture, you’ll probably nod.

So, in short we are in a room with women talking, and they’re discussing very high subjects, one of which might be God and the creation, Renaissance art and
making airplanes. Does this sound like Hell to you? To me, personally, it sounds more like Heaven. But let’s read on, we are curious to know why J. Alfred
Prufrock thinks this is Hell.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

Yeah, outside the weather isn’t so nice. There is a yellow fog that sits right on the windows.

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Muzzle = snout, the nose and mouth of an animal.

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

The yellow smoke is personified. In the poet’s image, it is a monster.

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

The yellow fog lingers = stays a bit longer, in still-standing water.

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Soot = the black dirt that you can find in a chimney = the opening leading smoke out from a house.

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

It (the smoke) slides next to the terrace = a platform next to the house where you can sit outside, and then it leaps = jumps.

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Hm, again, nothing dramatic happens. The fog doesn’t jump because it wants to attack.

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

No, it wrapped itself around the house, and then it sleeps! What an anti-drama.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

Apparently, Mr Prufrock needs to prepare a face for the people that he will meet.
There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

Indecision = not deciding about something.

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

A revision is a correction.

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

This stanza explains in words that aren’t difficult to understand that Mr Prufrock is taking his time. He thinks there is time enough to do big important things:
“There will be time to murder and create.” But in reality he’s not doing anything besides eating toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Mr Prufrock spends his time thinking of his overwhelming question. I think this might be the question that the poet was referring to earlier on, which is: “Do I
dare?” Prufrock wants to take some big step, but he’s asking himself whether he has the courage. Well, that is funny, because he doesn’t even have the courage
to ask his question!

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —

Bald = no hair.

(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

Prufrock is always aware of the impression he makes.

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

The collar (= the part around your neck) mounts (= goes up) to his chin. Prufrock is sensibly dressed, we understand from his description, like a well-groomed
gentleman.

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —

Assert = express.

(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

From this last line we gather that Prufrock isn’t able to make decisions because “a minute will reverse” them. This can mean several things. It can mean that time
can change the decisions you’ve made. It can also mean that Prufrock is simply unable to make decisions, because he wants to change them a minute later. Or it
can mean that he thinks that making decisions is senseless, because reality will change one minute later.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

Prufrock knows “everything.” He’s measured out his life with coffee spoons. What does this image mean? It could mean his life is one string of cups of coffee,
with nothing interesting happening in between.

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

A dying fall = a sound that slows down, or becomes lower in tone. This phrase can also be found in Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night, in which the male
character, Count Orsino, is listening to music that reminds him of his lover. But Prufrock is just listening to voices, presumably of the women who are talking
about Michelangelo. And he’s not taking part in the discussion.

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

What’s more, Prufrock “knows” the voices already, and the people they belong to, and he doesn’t want to presume = he doesn’t want to believe that anyone is
interested in him.

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

Yeah yeah, we know, Prufrock is just thinking of excuses not to look for contact with other people. Now he’s afraid of other people’s eyes.
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

They eyes that fix you (= stare at you) in a formulated phrase = a set sentence.

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

Prufrock says: When people judge me, and they’ve put me on a pin = put me in a category

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Pinned and wriggling on a wall = like a butterfly or other insect that is caught and put on display inside a box, and it is still fighting with its last strength
(wriggling = making small movements with your body).

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

A butt can be the end of anything, and butt-end is often used to mean the stub of a cigarette. So Prufrock is comparing his life to a used-up cigarette.

And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

Braceleted = wearing a bracelet, the piece of jewellery around your arm.

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Down on your arm = soft hairs covering your arm (down are the soft baby feathers of a bird).

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Digress = lose the point.

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

A shawl is another word for scarf.

And should I then presume?

And how should I begin?

Seems that Prufrock is interested in at least one of the women, but he doesn’t dare speak to them.

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

Dusk = sundown.

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

From this stanza we understand that Prufrock is an expert at lonely walks through the city, and he discovers there are plenty of other lonely men around.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

Here’s another reference to Shakespeare, this time to Hamlet’s line when he says Polonius, whom he hates, is an old man walking backwards like a crab. Hamlet
is mentioned later in the poem. In this image, Prufrock is comparing himself to a crab (could also be a lobster, but in English you can call an old man an old crab,
so crab is a better image). You could make some interesting comparisons between them: Prufrock is protective and defensive of himself, just like a crab is in his
shell and with his sharp claws. He’s slow like a crab. And although the crab lives under the sea, Prufrock lives in his own world too. The crab’s claws are a nice
contrast with the elegant braceleted arms of the women in the room. Crab’s claws are also aggressive, and reading between the lines Prufrock does sound
aggressive, angry and frustrated.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Smoothen = make flat

Asleep … tired … or it malingers,

Malinger = avoid a duty

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

You and me: Here’s a reminder that we are still with the poet on the tour of his uninteresting life.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

To force the moment to its crisis = undertake an important action.

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

To weep = to cry. Fast = not eat.

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

Prufrock seeing his head brought in on a platter (= dish) is a reference to the Bible story about John the Baptist who was murdered when the King’s daughter
asked him for John’s head. His head was then brought into the room on a plate. The meaning of this line surely is that Prufrock foresees that he will die soon.
Perhaps he envisions his head on a plate because he’s all the time at those cocktail parties, and he feels that no one loves him.

I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;

No great matter means it’s not important.

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

Flicker = be unstable of a light burning stronger or weaker. So this line implies that J. Alfred Prufrock can feel greatness in him. He could have been a hero, but
it’s just not happening. He can see his own failure already before he has tried anything. This makes him a tragic character.

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

Eternal = forever. Footman is a servant; one task such a person would do is hold your coat when you leave your house or when you enter a carriage. The eternal
Footman = Death. Snicker = laugh in a disrespectful way.

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Again Prufrock mentions you and me, but is he talking about the reader still, or maybe of some lady companion?

Would it have been worth while,

Now Prufrock seems to have given up entirely. He talks as if the time for action lies already in the past.

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

Squeeze = press, like you do with a soft ball in your hand or a lemon to get the juice.

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

Here is Prufrock’s overwhelming question again. Or it might be another question. What is certain is that Prufrock likes difficult existential questions that are
actually too big for him to handle.

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Lazarus is the man that Jesus resurrected from the dead, according the Bible story (in the Gospel according to John).

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

We are reminded again of the parallel with the poet in Dante’s Hell, where the poet also comes back to life to tell his story.

If one, settling a pillow by her head

Here it seems as if Prufrock has a lady in mind who might misunderstand him. Wouldn’t that be even worse than failure, is what he seems to ask himself. By the
way, we still don’t know what the overwhelming question is, besides the one that we read at the beginning of the poem: “Shall I dare?” It could be that Prufrock
is thinking about starting up with a certain woman he’s interested in. But he’s too afraid of failure.

Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

Trail = come after.

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

A magic lantern is an old device that was used to project slides before photography and film were invented. They look like this:

The magic lantern that Prufrock thinks of can show the nerves on the screen = how nervous he is.

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

 “That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Now Prufrock understand he’s been exaggerating his own role. He’s not a prince or a heroic character.

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

He’s an attendant lord = a secondary character.

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Someone who fills out a crowd on the stage, or says a few things to start the action.

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Someone who can advise a more important person than him, someone who is just a tool.

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Deferential = polite. Glad to be of use = happy to help.

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Politic = diplomatic. Cautious = careful. Meticulous = with eye for detail.

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

Full of high sentence has a double meaning: it can mean that Prufrock is able to express himself in high language. But also he sentences himself = he judges
himself and others probably too critically. Obtuse = indirect.

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

At times = sometimes.

Almost, at times, the Fool.

Prufrock is painting an accurate portrait of himself, which is that he is a gentleman who is too polite and too cowardly, and who’s never done anything important
in his life.

I grow old … I grow old …

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Another whining, ridiculous image of Prufrock.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

Flannel = a heavy cotton.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

Mermaids, as said above, are those half-girl half-fish creatures from myth and fairytales.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

The mermaids won’t sing to Prufrock as his life is empty of magic.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

Combing = brushing.

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

Linger = stay a bit longer (also used earlier in the poem). Chamber = room.

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Wreathe = put a string of flowers on.

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Conclusion of this stanza: The tragedy of Prufrock is that he understands the tragedy of life, but he doesn’t live it. But he does live the magic of poetry, that is:
the images of poetry.
Hope you liked this poem. To finish, these are my favourite lines:

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

On The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

In The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T. S. Eliot reveals the thoughts and feelings of the poem’s subject, Prufrock, in a way that Prufrock could not have articulated himself,
since it is the poem’s objective to illustrate Prufrock’s insecurity. By not commenting directly and allowing the reader to draw conclusions from clues given in dramatic
monologue, Eliot adds meaning and rewards the reader. His use of an epigraph heightens the reward and demonstrates that J. Alfred Prufrock cannot speak in life as he does in
the poem. Through use of these techniques, Eliot creates a poem that is both subtle and effective at generalizing the insecurity of Prufrock.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, gives the reader subtle hints about its meaning. The first of these comes in the epigraph from Dante’s Inferno:

S’io dredesse che mia reposta fosse

A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
 Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’I’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. (27.61-66)

This is roughly translated to mean that if the speaker knew his words would be taken outside of Hades, he would not have told his story. Since he knows that Dante will not
leave, he relates his secrets--known only to the dead. Without the rest of the poem as context, this quote means little, if anything, but it is the device that Eliot chooses to deliver
a clue to his readers.

The information may seem irrelevant until it is placed in the context of the entire poem, but by comparing his poem to the story told to Dante, Eliot warns the reader that this is
not an ordinary monologue. In this case, the epigraph reveals that Prufrock himself could not have articulated his introspection of the poem, but this will not be evident until an
analysis of the other images Eliot uses (Norton, 2140).

The poem is set as a monologue, since the speaker refers to a listener in the opening line as "you:" "Let us go then, you and I," (l. 1). This lets the reader know that what is stated
is being spoken to another person. Since a dramatic monologue typically reveals character traits that the speaker is unaware of, Eliot uses this to give the reader a clue about
how to read his poem.

Eliot sets a scene that is identified by the recurring phrase, "In the room the women come and go / Talking of Michelangelo" (ll. 13-14). This probably places the scene at a social
event, perhaps a tea party, and Eliot’s use of the "Michelangelo" reference, hints that this is an occasion for academics and their trivial discussions of famous artists. J. Alfred
Prufrock is probably a student in this setting, but even if he is not, the setting remains one of light sophistication. Slowly, Eliot gives small amounts of information about the
character of J. Alfred Prufrock:

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) (ll. 37-40)

These lines depict a man with an overwhelming fear and insecurity about his situation, as Prufrock delivers a clue to this in each line. He convinces himself that there is time, so
there is no need to rush into action. He asks if he can dare, and then has second thoughts and plans to "turn back" and leave the party. He is concerned with a bald spot and
what people will say about it. He desires something very much, yet he is afraid to act. Eliot is not content with simply portraying a man who is insecure, instead, he uses the
character’s own recollections and melancholy to deepen his meaning, "For I have known them all already, known them all— / Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons."
Eliot shows further how the speaker convinces himself not to act, although it is unclear in this section of the poem what he wishes not to act on. The speaker is tormented by his
neurotic insecurity, and he describes it in more detail in the successive lines.

If J. Alfred Prufrock was actually able to identify and articulate all of the feelings he demonstrates in the poem, he would most likely have been more confident and secure in
himself. He then would not feel as insecure and would not need to write the poem. This is the paradox which is explained by the epigraph.

The epigraph from Inferno is what Eliot uses to show the reader that the poem is spoken, not as Prufrock would, but as what Prufrock would say if he were come back from
another place, like Dante. This is a place where he could understand his insecurity and relate it in poetic form. While the speaker from Inferno has come back from Hades, Eliot
does not make it clear where Prufrock is speaking from, but he is distanced, nevertheless, from the scene. The melancholy reflections in the poem are more like what an aged
man would say in reflection of his youth, yet the speaker is apparently a young person who goes to academic tea parties with women who speak of Michelangelo. He is
uncomfortable because he wishes to talk to them:

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? (ll. 62-69)

This is what is troubling to Prufrock. He is afraid to speak to the women he sees because he feels that he will not speak well enough to have them interested in him, and his
insecurity will not allow him to overcome this shyness. The women are young, as the references to "White" and "bare" indicate, and they are attractive to Prufrock. He is taken
by their appearance, and it seems that he has had this problem before, since he has "known them already."

What is odd about Prufrock is that, while he is impotent to act because he cannot begin to speak, he states what he feels about himself in an eloquent and poetic manner, worthy
of any social setting, and probably enough to garner the interest of the women:

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. (ll.75-78)

The flow and beauty of these lines demonstrates that Prufrock is capable of speaking about love in poetic style, so he should not be insecure. Again, it Is the understanding that
Prufrock is speaking as though he were come back from another place, like Dante, that allows him to reveal his emotions in such heightened language. Prufrock has skill with
language throughout the poem, but it is not Prufrock in the setting that is relating the scene. It is not the Prufrock of the scene that can quote from Marvell and Shakespeare;
instead, it is the Prufrock of another place that is speaking in the poem. All this is given by Eliot's use of a passage by Dante, but without the context of the poem as a whole,
looked back on, as it were, the epigraph makes little sense and seems out of place. When taken in retrospect, the reference to Dante is not only appropriate, but it explains how a
character as insecure and inarticulate as Prufrock can say exactly what he means in the poem (through the poet), but not in the scene in the poem.
Eliot draws, perhaps, on his own experiences to write The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, but he extrapolates his sensations into the neurotic Prufrock, his alter ego. Since a
poem spoken by Prufrock might have been unimaginative, Eliot chooses the device of a dramatic monologue to make his observations of the human condition. His use of the
epigraph works well with the monologue to allow Eliot to write in the first person, and the technique keeps the poem fresh, even after several readings. It is more rewarding for
a reader to make sense of a difficult poem, or a poem that makes its point in a very subtle manner, than it is to simply state an observation in plain language. Eliot makes a
simple observation and keeps the reader interested by using unusual techniques that are both subtle and effective.