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Here's a link to the Pound poem I mention below in "GATT Freedom", and an excerpt from the first part. It was never one of my favorite of his, but it always stuck in my mind since there are rarely offered anything like glimpses into his private life in the early work, nor in the later for that matter (before Pisa, if one could call that "private"). I never found this poem convincing, though I like the stanza beginning "Their little cosmos is shaken..."
Villanelle: The Psychological Hour by Ezra Pound
I HAD over-prepared the event—
that much was ominous.
With middle-aging care
I had laid out just the right books,
I almost turned down the right pages.
Beauty is so rare a thing …
So few drink of my fountain.
So much barren regret!
So many hours wasted!
And now I watch from the window
rain, wandering busses.
Their little cosmos is shaken—
the air is alive with that fact.
In their parts of the city
they are played on by diverse forces;
I had over-prepared the event.
Beauty is so rare a thing …
So few drink of my fountain.
Etc. etc.