The Rest Is Dross

It's rare I find much to 'enjoy' in Ezra Pound (pompous, polymathic and pretentious ass that he was), but here's a rarity, from the Pisan Cantos, number LXXXI:

What thou lovest well remains,
                                          the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs
                                          or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
      Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee...

Unfortunately, much of the rest of the canto is typical Poundian blather and diatribe, but.... one mines the gold from the dirt.