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Here is the full text of the Poem Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot.
T.S. Eliot: Journey of the Magi
A cold coming we had of it,
The ways deep and the weather sharp
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces
And the silken girls bringing sherbet
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women
And the night fires going out, and the lack of shelters
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness
And three trees on the low sky
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow
Then we came to a tavern with vine leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins
But there was no information, and so we continued.
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place;it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again;but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death
But had thought they were different: this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.