This week's Poetry Pairing matches T.S. Eliot's timeless poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" with "Building a Bridge to a Lonely Colleague," a piece from the Job Market section of The Times. After reading the poem and column, tell us what you think - or suggest other Times content that could be matched with the poem instead. Poem The poet Ezra Pound introduced Harriet Monroe, founding editor of Poetry, to T.S. Eliot's writing in a letter, saying that the young Eliot "Actually trained himself AND modernized himself ON HIS OWN." Eliot's poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," appeared in Poetry in June 1915. Today, as Poetry celebrates its centennial, "Prufrock" remains one of its most famous poems. In a recent Chicago Sun-Times interview, the editor Christian Wiman said that Monroe "kind of buried ['Prufrock'] at the back of the issue, because she had real reservations about it back then, nothing like it existed. It would be so strange that the mind couldn't take it in. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot is from Poetry (June 1915). The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock By T.S. Eliot S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero, Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair - (They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!") My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin - (They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!") Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet - and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: "That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all." And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. Times Selection Excerpt In the article "Building a Bridge to a Lonely Colleague," Phyllis Korkki writes: Research into loneliness has tended to focus on people's private lives and on groups that may be prone to it, like the elderly. But some researchers have done studies on workplace loneliness, and have found that it hurts not only individuals but organizations as a whole. Loneliness is a perception of isolation or estrangement from others, says Sigal G. Barsade, a management professor at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. It arises from "the critical human need to belong," she says. Loneliness is not the same as solitude, which can be a positive and welcome state. Nor is it synonymous with depression, although the two may be correlated, says Sarah Wright, a senior lecturer in organizational leadership at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand. With loneliness, there is a need to rid oneself of distress "by integrating into new relationships," she explained in an e-mail. With depression, there is a drive to surrender to it. Because it is part of the human condition, loneliness is often regarded as a personal problem. But managers may need to view it as an organizational issue as well, according to research by Professor Barsade and Hakan Ozcelik, an associate business professor at California State University, Sacramento. In a recent study of more than 650 workers, the two researchers found that loneliness - as reported both by the sufferer and his or her co-workers - reduces an employee's productivity. This was true on both individual and team-oriented tasks. Just look at what loneliness can do to a person, and you'll see why. "Loneliness tends to distort social cognition and influences an individual's interpersonal behavior, resulting in increased hostility, negativity, depressed mood, increased anxiety, lack of perceived control and decreased cooperativeness," Dr. Wright says. For this expansive and well-known poem, we offer a few of the other pairings we considered: