(Italian Campagna 1309, the open road)
"Bah! I have sung women in three cities,
But it is all the same;
And I will sing of the sun.
Lips, words, and you snare them,
Dreams, words, and they are as jewels,
Strange spells of old deity,
Ravens, nights, allurement:
And they are not;
Having become the souls of song.
Eyes, dreams, lips, and the night goes.
Being upon the road once more,
They are not.
An important line in the poem, and for Pound’s work generally. The women cease to exist, as far as the speaker is concerned, ontologically as they become material for his art. This is without the complication that this is a frame narrative– Pound is imagining a speaker (Cino), who in turn imagines women, then renders  those  imagined women in verse. 
 Sound preposterous? One of his detractors,  Philip Larkin , famously dissed Pound “for being literary, which to me is the foundation of his feebleness, thinking that poetry is made out of poetry and not out of being alive.” 
