Mandarins I by T.S. Eliot Lyrics

Stands there, complete,
Stiffly addressed with sword and fan:
What of the crowds that ran,
Pushed, stared, and huddled, at his feet,
Keen to appropriate the man?

Indifferent to all these baits
Of popular benignity
He merely stands and waits
Upon his own intrepid dignity;
With fixed regardless eyes—
Looking neither out nor in—
The centre of formalities.


A hero! and how much it means;
How much—
The rest is merely shifting scenes.