T S Eliot's poetry, although very modest in quantity, remains one of the great artistic triumphs of the English language. In his ironic accounts of adolescent desire in 'The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock' and 'Portrait of a Lady', he performs masculine self-doubt with a pathos and wit that has yet to be surpassed in poem, book or song. But these early poems can seem like mere exercises beside the astonishing achievements of 'Gerontion' and 'The Wasteland', poems which defined a generation and which broke the mould in English verse to allow a symphony of despairing voices to bear witness to the destruction in Europe.