{"id":348057,"date":"2025-09-12T21:17:25","date_gmt":"2025-09-13T02:17:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/2025\/09\/12\/the-lovesong-of-j-alfred-prufrock-text-teachthought\/"},"modified":"2025-09-12T21:17:25","modified_gmt":"2025-09-13T02:17:25","slug":"the-lovesong-of-j-alfred-prufrock-text-teachthought","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/2025\/09\/12\/the-lovesong-of-j-alfred-prufrock-text-teachthought\/","title":{"rendered":"The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock Text \u2013 TeachThought"},"content":{"rendered":"<p> [ad_1]<br \/>\n<\/p>\n<div>\n<p>As many Literature\/ELA teachers know, T.S. Eliot\u2019s <em>The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock<\/em> is a worth teaching for any number of reasons, from mood and narrative form to voice, tone, and the internal monologue. <\/p>\n<p>The poem\u2019s images and language (diction) make it useful to even explore relatable ideas like rejection, overthinking, and social anxiety.<\/p>\n<p>This animated version visualizes and emphasizes how the imagery establish and emphasize the mood, and, of course, vice-versa.<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock Text Text and Audio Read By The Author<\/h2>\n<p>Eliot\u2019s references to Dante, Shakespeare, and the Bible make teaching about allusions and inter-textual references discussion about how authors layer meaning and draw from existing texts (something music can also be used to do). <\/p>\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\">\n<div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<div class=\"perfmatters-lazy-youtube\" data-src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/7Y2a3PL-Iao\" data-id=\"7Y2a3PL-Iao\" data-query=\"feature=oembed\" onclick=\"perfmattersLazyLoadYouTube(this);\">\n<div><img fetchpriority=\"high\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"YouTube video\" width=\"480\" height=\"360\" data-pin-nopin=\"true\" nopin=\"nopin\" class=\"perfmatters-lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/i.ytimg.com\/vi\/7Y2a3PL-Iao\/hqdefault.jpg\"\/><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/i.ytimg.com\/vi\/7Y2a3PL-Iao\/hqdefault.jpg\" alt=\"YouTube video\" width=\"480\" height=\"360\" data-pin-nopin=\"true\" nopin=\"nopin\"\/><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<p><noscript><iframe title=\"The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock Animation\" width=\"1200\" height=\"675\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/7Y2a3PL-Iao?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/noscript>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<p>See below for the full version of the <em>The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock<\/em> full text and audio recording read by the author<\/p>\n<p><strong>The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot (1915)<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>S\u2019io credesse che mia risposta fosse<br \/>A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,<br \/>Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.<br \/>Ma per cio che giammai di questo fondo<br \/>Non torno vivo alcun, s\u2019i\u2019odo il vero,<br \/>Senza tema d\u2019infamia ti rispondo.<\/strong><br \/>\u2014Dante, <em>Inferno<\/em>, Canto XXVII<\/p>\n<p>Let us go then, you and I,<br \/>When the evening is spread out against the sky<br \/>Like a patient etherized upon a table;<br \/>Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,<br \/>The muttering retreats<br \/>Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels<br \/>And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:<br \/>Streets that follow like a tedious argument<br \/>Of insidious intent<br \/>To lead you to an overwhelming question \u2026<br \/>Oh, do not ask, \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<br \/>Let us go and make our visit.<\/p>\n<p>In the room the women come and go<br \/>Talking of Michelangelo.<\/p>\n<p>The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,<br \/>The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes<br \/>Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,<br \/>Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,<br \/>Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,<br \/>Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,<br \/>And seeing that it was a soft October night,<br \/>Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.<\/p>\n<p>And indeed there will be time<br \/>For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,<br \/>Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;<br \/>There will be time, there will be time<br \/>To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;<br \/>There will be time to murder and create,<br \/>And time for all the works and days of hands<br \/>That lift and drop a question on your plate;<br \/>Time for you and time for me,<br \/>And time yet for a hundred indecisions,<br \/>And for a hundred visions and revisions,<br \/>Before the taking of a toast and tea.<\/p>\n<p>In the room the women come and go<br \/>Talking of Michelangelo.<\/p>\n<p>And indeed there will be time<br \/>To wonder, \u201cDo I dare?\u201d and, \u201cDo I dare?\u201d<br \/>Time to turn back and descend the stair,<br \/>With a bald spot in the middle of my hair\u2014<br \/>(They will say: \u201cHow his hair is growing thin!\u201d)<br \/>My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,<br \/>My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin\u2014<br \/>(They will say: \u201cBut how his arms and legs are thin!\u201d)<br \/>Do I dare<br \/>Disturb the universe?<br \/>In a minute there is time<br \/>For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.<\/p>\n<p>For I have known them all already, known them all\u2014<br \/>Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,<br \/>I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;<br \/>I know the voices dying with a dying fall<br \/>Beneath the music from a farther room.<br \/>So how should I presume?<\/p>\n<p>And I have known the eyes already, known them all\u2014<br \/>The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,<br \/>And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,<br \/>When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,<br \/>Then how should I begin<br \/>To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?<br \/>And how should I presume?<\/p>\n<p>And I have known the arms already, known them all\u2014<br \/>Arms that are braceleted and white and bare<br \/>(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)<br \/>Is it perfume from a dress<br \/>That makes me so digress?<br \/>Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.<br \/>And should I then presume?<br \/>And how should I begin?<\/p>\n<p>Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets<br \/>And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes<br \/>Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? \u2026<\/p>\n<p>I should have been a pair of ragged claws<br \/>Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.<\/p>\n<p>And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!<br \/>Smoothed by long fingers,<br \/>Asleep \u2026 tired \u2026 or it malingers,<br \/>Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.<br \/>Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,<br \/>Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?<br \/>But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,<br \/>Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,<br \/>I am no prophet\u2014and here\u2019s no great matter;<br \/>I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,<br \/>And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,<br \/>And in short, I was afraid.<\/p>\n<p>And would it have been worth it, after all,<br \/>After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,<br \/>Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,<br \/>Would it have been worth while,<br \/>To have bitten off the matter with a smile,<br \/>To have squeezed the universe into a ball<br \/>To roll it toward some overwhelming question,<br \/>To say: \u201cI am Lazarus, come from the dead,<br \/>Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all\u201d\u2014<br \/>If one, settling a pillow by her head,<br \/>Should say: \u201cThat is not what I meant at all.<br \/>That is not it, at all.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And would it have been worth it, after all,<br \/>Would it have been worth while,<br \/>After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,<br \/>After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor\u2014<br \/>And this, and so much more?\u2014<br \/>It is impossible to say just what I mean!<br \/>But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:<br \/>Would it have been worth while<br \/>If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,<br \/>And turning toward the window, should say:<br \/>\u201cThat is not it at all,<br \/>That is not what I meant, at all.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;<br \/>Am an attendant lord, one that will do<br \/>To swell a progress, start a scene or two,<br \/>Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,<br \/>Deferential, glad to be of use,<br \/>Politic, cautious, and meticulous;<br \/>Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;<br \/>At times, indeed, almost ridiculous\u2014<br \/>Almost, at times, the Fool.<\/p>\n<p>I grow old \u2026 I grow old \u2026<br \/>I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.<\/p>\n<p>Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?<br \/>I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.<br \/>I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.<\/p>\n<p>I do not think that they will sing to me.<\/p>\n<p>I have seen them riding seaward on the waves<br \/>Combing the white hair of the waves blown back<br \/>When the wind blows the water white and black.<br \/>We have lingered in the chambers of the sea<br \/>By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown<br \/>Till human voices wake us, and we drown.<\/p>\n<p><em>Full Text Version; The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock Text Text and Audio Read By The Author<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p>[ad_2]<br \/>\n<br \/><a href=\"https:\/\/www.teachthought.com\/literacy-posts\/the-lovesong-of-j-alfred-prufrock-full-text\/\">Source link <\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[ad_1] As many Literature\/ELA teachers know, T.S. Eliot\u2019s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is a worth teaching for any number of reasons, from<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":348058,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[173],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348057"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=348057"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348057\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/348058"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=348057"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=348057"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michigandigitalnews.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=348057"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}