ABSTRACT
Ezra Pound goes on and on with his Cantos. If one imagined a person called Rabbi Ben Ezra Pound writing an immense poem suggested by the antique flavour of his first name plus the sense of money civilisation suggested by the second—well, that poem might be very like the Cantos. In these Cantos, as in the early ones, there are passages of classical beauty inserted amongst great tracts of the Social Creditor looking at history and life. A certain dullness weaves together these divergent interests and ages into a sort of whole.
