"Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season"

In the juvescence of the yearCame Christ the tiger...After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions, Guides us by vanities.  Think now She gives when our attention is distracted And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions That the giving famishes the craving.  Gives too late What’s not believed in, or is still believed, In memory only, reconsidered passion.  Gives too soon Into weak hands, what’s thought can be dispensed with Till the refusal propagates a fear.  Think Neither fear nor courage saves us.  Unnatural vices Are fathered by our heroism.  Virtues Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes. These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree. The tiger springs in the new year.  Us he devours.  Think at last We have not reached conclusion, when I Stiffen in a rented house.  Think at last I have not made this show purposelessly And it is not by any concitation Of the backward devils. I would meet you upon this honestly. I that was near your heart was removed therefrom To lose beauty in terror, terror in inquisition. I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it Since what is kept must be adulterated? I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch: How should I use it for your closer contact? --Excerpts from Geronion, by T.S. Eliot