No More Learning

"
. . . . . . .
Come, arise, hunter!
Can you not hear?

The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-
top.



The impact of a dollar upon the heart
Smiles warm red light,
Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the
white table,
With the hanging cool velvet shadows
Moving softly upon the door.

The impact of a million dollars
Is a crash of flunkys,
And yawning emblems of Persia
Cheeked against oak, France and a sabre,
The outcry of old beauty
Whored by pimping merchants
To submission before wine and chatter.
Silly rich peasants stamp the carpets of men,
Dead men who dreamed fragrance and light
Into their woof, their lives;
The rug of an honest bear
Under the feet of a cryptic slave
Who speaks always of baubles,
Forgetting state, multitude, work, and state,
Champing and mouthing of hats,
Making ratful squeak of hats,
Hats.



A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist! "
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
"A sense of obligation.
"



When the prophet, a complacent fat
man,
Arrived at the mountain-top,
He cried: "Woe to my knowledge!
"I intended to see good white lands
"And bad black lands,
"But the scene is grey. "



There was a land where lived no
violets.
A traveller at once demanded: "Why? "
The people told him:
"Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
"'Until some woman freely give her lover
"'To another woman
"'We will fight in bloody scuffle. '"
Sadly the people added:
"There are no violets here. "



There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said: "Show me of your wares. "
And I did,
Holding forth one,
He said: "It is a sin. "
Then I held forth another.
He said: "It is a sin. "
Then I held forth another.
He said: "It is a sin. "
And so to the end.
Always He said: "It is a sin. "
At last, I cried out:
"But I have non other.