The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot: analysis

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock the full poem, lines numbered

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,

5The 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

10To 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.

15The 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,

20Slipped 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,

25Rubbing 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

30That 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.

35In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

40With 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!”)

45Do 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:

50Have 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?

55And 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

60To 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!)

65Is 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?

70Shall 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.

75And 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,

80Have 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,

85And 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,

90Would 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 toward some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

95Come 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,

100Would 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!

105But 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,

110That 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,

115Deferential, 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.

120I grow old ... 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.

125I 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

130By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The poem in 60 seconds

The title promises a love song, but Prufrock never sings one. He spends the whole poem getting ready for a social visit, imagining what people will say about his thinning hair, and circling a question he cannot bring himself to ask. T. S. Eliot, born in St. Louis and living in England by then, first published it in 1915, and its nervous, jumpy voice helped define modernist poetry.

Prufrock invites “you” to walk with him at evening through half-deserted streets of cheap hotels and sawdust restaurants, streets that lead toward an “overwhelming question” he will not name. In a room, women come and go talking of Michelangelo. A yellow fog prowls around the house like a cat and falls asleep. Prufrock tells himself there will be time for a hundred indecisions before tea. He wonders if he dares to go in, and pictures people remarking on his bald spot and his thin arms and legs. He has known these evenings, eyes and arms already, he says, so how should he presume to speak? He wishes he were a pair of claws on the sea floor. He admits he lacks the strength to force the moment to a crisis, and says plainly that he was afraid. Would it have been worth it to speak, he asks, only to hear a woman answer that this is not what she meant at all? He is not Hamlet, he decides, only a minor lord, almost the Fool. He grows old, hears mermaids singing to each other but not to him, and ends with “we” drowning as human voices wake us.

Speaker & situation

SpeakerJ. Alfred Prufrock, whom we know only through his own thoughts. He is carefully dressed (lines 42–43), worried about his thinning hair (lines 40–41) and convinced he is growing old (line 120). He is painfully self-conscious and quick to mock himself.

Addressed toA “you” the poem never identifies. Readers take it in three main ways: the reader, invited along on the walk; a companion going with Prufrock to the visit; or another side of Prufrock himself, so that the poem is a divided man talking to himself. The text supports each reading, and the “you and I” of line 1 becomes “we” in the last three lines.

OccasionA visit to a room where women gather over tea, cakes and ices (lines 79 and 88), which Prufrock is on his way to or only imagining. He carries an “overwhelming question” (line 10) that the poem never states. Many readers take it as a declaration of love or a proposal; others read it as a larger question about the meaning of his life.

SettingAn unnamed city on a “soft October night” (line 21): narrow, half-empty streets, yellow fog and a drawing room with tea and porcelain. In the final stanzas the scene moves to an imagined beach and then under the sea.

ToneAnxious, ironic and self-mocking, with flashes of longing. Prufrock jokes at his own expense, but the jokes cover real fear, which he finally admits in line 86.

J. Alfred Prufrock

Speaker

A formally dressed, self-conscious man who worries about his thinning hair and growing old. He longs to speak but talks himself out of acting, then pictures what might have happened if he had.

“You”

The listener

Invited along in line 1 and mentioned again in lines 31, 78 and 89, but never described. The “you” may be the reader, a companion, or another side of Prufrock himself.

The women in the room

Guests at the gathering

Seen only in fragments: talking of Michelangelo (lines 13–14 and 35–36), as judging eyes (lines 55–56) and as bare, braceleted arms (lines 62–67). Prufrock fears their opinion more than he knows them.

The woman with the pillow

Imagined listener

Called only “one.” In lines 96–98, settling a pillow by her head, she answers Prufrock’s imagined confession by saying that is not what she meant, and in lines 107–110 “one” gives the same reply. She exists only in his fears.

Form & sound

FormDramatic monologue; one speaker talks to a listener and reveals more about himself than he means to. Eliot moves the form inside the speaker’s head, so the poem jumps between scenes, memories and fears the way thoughts do. Eliot set an epigraph in Italian above the poem, taken from Dante’s Inferno (Canto 27); this page does not print it and the line numbers do not count it. In it, the soul of Guido da Montefeltro, wrapped in flame in hell, agrees to tell his shameful story only because he believes no one ever returns from there to repeat it. He is wrong, since Dante is alive and will carry the story back, and the epigraph hints that Prufrock too speaks only because he thinks no one is listening.

MeterNo fixed meter. Lines range from three words (“Do I dare,” line 45) to long, sprawling lines such as line 102. Some passages settle into steadier ten-syllable lines with an iambic beat, as in line 113 and the last line, line 131.

Rhyme schemeRhymed, but with no set pattern. Most lines rhyme with a nearby line: “I” and “sky” (lines 1–2), “go” and “Michelangelo” (13–14), “stair” and “hair” (39–40). Some rhymes are comic on purpose, like “ices” and “crisis” (79–80), and a few passages, such as lines 70–74, do not rhyme at all.

SoundRepetition carries the music: “there will be time” (lines 23–37), “known them all” (49, 55, 62), the “presume” questions (54, 61, 68) and “would it have been worth it” (87, 99). The fog stanza (15–22) is built from soft, sliding verbs: licked, lingered, slipped, curled.

StructureEighteen stanzas of very uneven length, from a single line (line 125) to thirteen lines (49–61). The couplet about the women and Michelangelo appears twice as a refrain (13–14 and 35–36). The poem moves from invitation to delay and self-doubt, reaches a confession of fear in line 86, turns to regret, and ends in a dream of the sea.

Line by line what each part says and does

1

Lines 1–14

The invitation

Prufrock invites “you” to go with him while the evening lies against the sky like a patient drugged with ether on an operating table. Their route runs through half-deserted streets of cheap one-night hotels and sawdust restaurants, streets that lead like a tedious argument toward an “overwhelming question.” Do not ask what it is, he says; let us just go and make our visit. In a room, women come and go talking of Michelangelo.

How it worksThe first simile drains the romance out of the evening: the sky becomes a numb, passive body, much like Prufrock himself. The refrain sets a great Renaissance artist inside idle party talk, and its jingling rhyme hints at the chatter Prufrock dreads.
2

Lines 15–36

Fog and the promise of time

A yellow fog rubs its back and muzzle on the window-panes, licks into the corners of the evening, makes a sudden leap, curls once about the house and falls asleep. Prufrock assures himself that there will be time: time to prepare a face to meet other faces, time “to murder and create,” time for a hundred indecisions and revisions before toast and tea. Again the women come and go talking of Michelangelo.

How it worksThe fog is never called a cat, but it moves like one, and like Prufrock it circles the house and settles down without going in. “There will be time” sounds reassuring but works as an excuse, and the grand pair “murder and create” shrinks to “toast and tea.”
3

Lines 37–69

Do I dare? What others see

Prufrock wonders whether he dares, and imagines turning back down the stair while people note his bald spot and his thin arms and legs, for all his good coat, collar and tie pin. Does he dare disturb the universe? He says he has known it all already: the evenings, mornings and afternoons, the voices under distant music, the eyes that fix a man like an insect pinned to a wall, and the bare, braceleted arms. Each memory ends with the same question of how he should presume, or how he should begin.

How it worksThe jump from a bald spot to disturbing “the universe” is comic, and it shows how enormous small social risks feel to him. Line 51, “measured out my life with coffee spoons,” sums up a life spent in small, polite portions, and being “pinned and wriggling on the wall” shows how he feels watched and labelled like a specimen.
4

Lines 70–86

Claws, a platter and fear

Prufrock tries out what he might say: that he has walked at dusk through narrow streets and watched lonely men in shirt-sleeves smoking at their windows. He breaks off to wish he had been a pair of ragged claws on the floor of a silent sea. The afternoon sleeps peacefully beside “you and me.” After tea and cakes and ices, he asks, should he have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? He has wept and fasted and seen his balding head brought in upon a platter, but he is no prophet. He has seen his moment of greatness flicker and the eternal Footman hold his coat and snicker. In short, he was afraid.

How it worksThe head on a platter recalls John the Baptist, the prophet whose head was brought in on a platter at King Herod’s court in the Gospels, but Prufrock at once denies being a prophet and deflates the image with “grown slightly bald.” The snickering Footman is usually read as Death, and the plain words of line 86 are the most honest thing he says.
5

Lines 87–110

Would it have been worth it?

Prufrock asks whether it would have been worth it, after the cups, the marmalade and the tea, to bite off the matter with a smile, squeeze the universe into a ball and roll it toward the overwhelming question. What if he announced that he was Lazarus, back from the dead to tell them all, and a woman settling a pillow by her head replied that this was not what she meant at all? He asks again, and cries that it is impossible to say just what he means, as if a magic lantern threw his nerves in patterns on a screen. Again he imagines the answer: that is not it at all.

How it worksThe verbs have moved from “there will be time” to “would it have been,” as if the chance has already passed. What he fears most is not refusal but being misunderstood, and the magic lantern, an early slide projector, pictures a wish to show his inner life directly because words keep failing him.
6

Lines 111–131

Not Hamlet, and the mermaids

No, Prufrock says, he is not Prince Hamlet and was not meant to be. He is an attendant lord, good for filling out a procession or advising the prince: cautious, deferential, full of lofty sayings but a bit slow, at times almost ridiculous, almost the Fool. He grows old. He will wear his trousers rolled, wonders whether to part his hair behind or dare to eat a peach, and will walk on the beach in white flannel trousers. He has heard the mermaids singing to each other, but does not think they will sing to him. He has seen them riding seaward on the waves. “We” have lingered in the chambers of the sea until human voices wake us, and we drown.

How it worksPrufrock casts himself as a minor character in someone else’s play, most often read as Polonius, the fussy royal adviser in Hamlet, and then as the Fool. The sea dream is the loveliest passage in the poem, but it lasts only until human voices break in, and the closing “we” may fold the “you and I” of line 1 into one shared fate.

The turn

Lines 86–87

For most of the poem Prufrock looks ahead: “there will be time,” “Do I dare,” “how should I begin.” Line 86 ends all that with a plain confession in the past tense, “I was afraid.” From line 87 he speaks in the past conditional, “would it have been worth it,” as if the moment has already passed without his acting. A second, smaller turn comes at line 111, where he gives up the hero’s role and settles for a minor part.

Literary devices with line numbers

Simile

In lines 2–3, the evening is spread against the sky “Like a patient etherized upon a table,” an unromantic, clinical image of something numb and helpless. In lines 8–10, the streets follow “like a tedious argument” that leads toward the overwhelming question, so even the city seems to reason in circles.

Extended metaphor

In lines 15–22, the yellow fog behaves like a cat: it rubs its back and muzzle on the window-panes, licks its tongue into corners, makes a sudden leap, and curls about the house to sleep. The word cat never appears, and the fog returns briefly in lines 24–25.

Allusion

Line 82 recalls John the Baptist, whose head was brought in on a platter, before Prufrock says “I am no prophet” in line 83. In line 94 he imagines saying he is Lazarus, “come from the dead”; readers usually think of the Lazarus Jesus raised in the Gospel of John, and some also hear the Lazarus of Luke 16, whom a rich man in torment begs Abraham to send back from the dead to warn his brothers. In line 111 he rejects the role of Prince Hamlet. Line 52’s “a dying fall” also echoes Duke Orsino’s words about music at the opening of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.

Refrain and repetition

The couplet in lines 13–14 returns word for word in lines 35–36. “There will be time” repeats through lines 23–37, “how should I presume” closes lines 54 and 61, and “would it have been worth it” opens lines 87 and 99. The repetitions make the poem circle the way Prufrock’s mind circles without deciding.

Rhetorical question

Prufrock keeps asking questions he never answers: “Do I dare / Disturb the universe?” (lines 45–46), “how should I presume?” (lines 54 and 61), “Do I dare to eat a peach?” (line 122). The questions shrink from the universe to a piece of fruit, but each one stops him just the same.

Synecdoche

Prufrock sees people in pieces. In lines 55–56, “the eyes” stand for the watchers who judge him, and in lines 62–67 “the arms” stand for the women he is drawn to. In line 73 he wishes to be only “a pair of ragged claws,” a part of a creature standing for the whole.

Themes in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Paralysis and indecisionSelf-consciousness and judgmentTime and agingIsolation and the limits of language

Paralysis and indecision

Prufrock plans, delays and revises but never acts. He spends “a hundred indecisions” (line 32) and ends with “I was afraid” (line 86), so the love song of the title is never sung.

Self-consciousness and judgment

He imagines every remark about his hair and thin arms (lines 41 and 44) and feels “pinned and wriggling on the wall” (line 58) under other people’s eyes. The fear of being judged is stronger than any wish he has.

Time and aging

Early on he insists “there will be time” (lines 23–37); by line 120 he says “I grow old.” Many readers hear an ironic answer to Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress,” whose speaker argues there is not enough time and wants to roll all their strength into one ball, an image Prufrock borrows in line 92 only to doubt it.

Isolation and the limits of language

“It is impossible to say just what I mean!” (line 104) sums up his fear that even if he speaks, he will be misunderstood. The mermaids who sing “each to each” but not to him (lines 124–125) make the isolation complete.

Images and symbols

The yellow fog

The catlike fog in lines 15–25 wraps the house and falls asleep without ever going inside. Many readers see it as a picture of Prufrock himself: restless, circling and finally inactive.

Coffee spoons

In line 51 Prufrock has “measured out” his life with coffee spoons. The image turns a whole life into small, polite, repeated portions of social routine.

The ragged claws

In lines 73–74 he wishes he were a pair of claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas. A creature that just acts, with no face to prepare and no eyes watching, is the opposite of his self-conscious life.

The mermaids and the sea

The singing mermaids (lines 124–128) stand for beauty, desire or imagination that Prufrock can sense but not reach. The sea is where he can dream, and waking into the human world ends the dream (line 131).

Patterns

Tea and small rituals. Toast and tea (line 34), tea and cakes and ices (line 79), cups, marmalade and porcelain (lines 88–89) and teacups (line 102). The genteel ritual keeps returning as the setting where big questions get lost.

The body in pieces. A bald spot, thin arms and legs, eyes, braceleted arms, claws and a head on a platter. The poem rarely shows a whole person, which fits a speaker who feels picked apart.

Tensions

Person vs. self. The main struggle is inside Prufrock: the wish to ask his overwhelming question against the fear that stops him. The fear wins, as he admits in line 86.

Person vs. society. The drawing room, with its eyes that “fix you in a formulated phrase” (line 56), judges and labels him. He imagines its verdict so fully that he never tests it.

The ending

How The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock ends, explained

After the Hamlet stanza, Prufrock turns to his own aging. “I grow old” (line 120) leads into small, anxious questions about rolled trousers, parting his hair behind and whether he dares to eat a peach. Readers disagree about these details: some see a man trying to look fashionable and young, others a man shrinking into a comic, elderly figure, and some hear the peach as a small sensual risk he still cannot take. Then the poem changes key. On the beach he has heard the mermaids singing “each to each,” and line 125, a stanza of one line, says he does not think they will sing to him. For a moment he describes them riding the waves, and the verse grows musical and calm. In the final three lines the “I” becomes “we”: we have lingered in the chambers of the sea with sea-girls, until human voices wake us, and we drown. Most readers take the sea as the world of dream and desire, where Prufrock can live freely, and the human voices as the drawing room calling him back. Waking means drowning, so real life is what kills him. Some read the “we” as Prufrock and his “you,” others as Prufrock and the reader, or as everyone who retreats into dreams. Many readers also link the ending to the epigraph: like Guido, Prufrock seems to speak only because he believes no one will hear.

“When the evening is spread out against the sky / Like a patient etherized upon a table;”

Lines 2–3. The opening simile swaps a romantic sunset for an operating table. The numb, passive patient is a fitting picture of the speaker himself.

“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;”

Line 51. A whole life reduced to small, polite portions of social routine.

“I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.”

Lines 73–74. Prufrock wishes away his self-consciousness entirely. The couplet stands alone as its own stanza, and its harsh sounds break the drawing-room calm.

“Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”

Line 131. The last line. The dream under the sea ends when the human world intrudes, and the speaker’s “I” has become “we.”

Common misreadings

MythThe poem is a love song addressed to a woman Prufrock loves.

ActuallyNo song is ever sung and no love is declared. The title is ironic, and the “you” of line 1 is never identified as a woman; readers take it as the reader, a companion or part of Prufrock himself.

MythThe “overwhelming question” is a marriage proposal.

ActuallyThe poem never states the question (lines 10–11 refuse to name it). A proposal or declaration of love is one common reading; others take it as a question about the meaning of his life. The poem leaves it open.

MythPrufrock is T. S. Eliot speaking about himself.

ActuallyIt is a dramatic monologue, and Prufrock is a character. Eliot was in his early twenties when he wrote most of it, while Prufrock sees himself as balding and growing old (lines 40 and 120).

AP practice a poetry prompt in the exam's style

Read T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” first published in 1915. Then write an essay that analyzes how Eliot uses literary elements and techniques to convey a complex perspective on the fear of acting and the passing of time.

What a strong response notices

The opening simile of the etherized patient in lines 2–3 and what it suggests about the speaker.
The repetition of “there will be time” in lines 23–37 set against “I grow old” in line 120.
The rhetorical questions in lines 45–46, 54, 61 and 122, and how they shrink from the universe to a peach.
The confession “I was afraid” in line 86 and the change to “would it have been worth it” in line 87.
The Hamlet stanza in lines 111–119 and the mermaid ending in lines 124–131, where the “I” becomes “we.”

Practice prompt written by StoryBites, not taken from a College Board exam. See the AP Literature free-response guide for how answers are scored.

Test yourself

1. In lines 2–3, what is the evening compared to?

2. What do the women in the room talk about in the refrain?

3. What does Prufrock say he has measured out his life with?

4. Which figure does Prufrock say he is NOT in line 111?

5. What does Prufrock say about the mermaids in line 125?

Flashcards flip, self-grade, and the deck remembers what you know

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Answer

Explain it like I’m 12

Prufrock is a shy, nervous man on his way to a fancy tea party. There is something big he wants to say, maybe to a woman, but he keeps putting it off. He worries that people will laugh at his bald spot and skinny arms. He tells himself there is plenty of time, then admits he was simply scared. He imagines saying it and being told, “That is not what I meant at all.” At the end he feels old and left out, like mermaids are singing to each other but never to him.

Compare & connect

My Last Duchess

Robert Browning

Both are dramatic monologues whose speakers reveal more than they intend. Browning’s Duke is sure of himself and in control, while Prufrock doubts every word, so the pair shows how Eliot bent the form toward a divided, anxious mind.

Hamlet

William Shakespeare

Prufrock names Hamlet in line 111 and refuses the part. Both are men who think endlessly and put off acting, and reading the play shows what Prufrock means when he casts himself as the attendant lord instead.

Acquainted with the Night

Robert Frost

Frost’s speaker also walks city streets alone at night and passes a watchman without a word. Set beside Prufrock’s narrow streets and lonely men at windows (lines 70–72), both poems picture modern isolation through a solitary walker.

Discussion and essay prompts:

💬 Discussion questions

What is the meaning of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Who is the you in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
What is the overwhelming question in Prufrock
How does The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock explore the theme of paralysis and indecision?
How does The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock explore the theme of self-consciousness and judgment?
What is the central conflict in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and how does it shape the ending?

✎ Essay prompts

Analyze how T. S. Eliot develops the theme of paralysis and indecision in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Support your argument with specific evidence from the text.
Examine the significance of the yellow fog in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. What does it represent, and how does it deepen the work’s meaning?
How does T. S. Eliot use simile to shape the reader’s experience of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock?
Some readers assume that the poem is a love song addressed to a woman Prufrock loves. Argue for or against this interpretation, using evidence from the text.

Key questions students ask

What is the meaning of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Who is the you in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
What is the overwhelming question in Prufrock
What does the epigraph from Dante mean in Prufrock
Why does Prufrock say he is not Prince Hamlet
What do the mermaids symbolize in Prufrock

Analysis is original StoryBites commentary. The poem is printed from Prufrock and Other Observations (The Egoist, 1917), compared line by line with a proofread transcription of the scanned book, with every difference checked on the page image. First published in 1915, it is in the public domain in the United States.