The Waste Land By T. S. Eliot - https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1321/pg1321-images.html

 

I think we are in rats’ alley
  Where the dead men lost their bones.

  “What is that noise?”
                               The wind under the door.
  “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”
                               Nothing again nothing.                     
                                                                    “Do
  “You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
  “Nothing?”

 Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
  Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
  And the profit and loss.
                                           A current under sea
  Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
  He passed the stages of his age and youth
  Entering the whirlpool.
                                         Gentile or Jew
  O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,                          
  Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.