No More Learning

IX.

And because I was a poet, and because the public praised me,
With a critical deduction for the modern writer's fault,
I could sit at rich men's tables,--though the courtesies that raised
me,
Still suggested clear between us the pale spectrum of the salt.

X.

And they praised me in her presence--"Will your book appear this
summer? "
Then returning to each other--"Yes, our plans are for the moors. "
Then with whisper dropped behind me--"There he is! the latest comer.
Oh, she only likes his verses! what is over, she endures.

XI.

"Quite low-born, self-educated! somewhat gifted though by nature,
And we make a point of asking him,--of being very kind.
You may speak, he does not hear you! and, besides, he writes no
satire,--
All these serpents kept by charmers leave the natural sting behind. "

XII.
I grew scornfuller, grew colder, as I stood up there among them,
Till as frost intense will burn you, the cold scorning scorched my
brow;
When a sudden silver speaking, gravely cadenced, over-rung them,
And a sudden silken stirring touched my inner nature through.

XIII.

I looked upward and beheld her: with a calm and regnant spirit,
Slowly round she swept her eyelids, and said clear before them all--
"Have you such superfluous honour, sir, that able to confer it
You will come down, Mister Bertram, as my guest to Wycombe Hall? "

XIV.

Here she paused; she had been paler at the first word of her speaking,
But, because a silence followed it, blushed somewhat, as for shame:
Then, as scorning her own feeling, resumed calmly--"I am seeking
More distinction than these gentlemen think worthy of my claim.

XV.

"Ne'ertheless, you see, I seek it--not because I am a woman,"
(Here her smile sprang like a fountain and, so, overflowed her mouth)
"But because my woods in Sussex have some purple shades at gloaming
Which are worthy of a king in state, or poet in his youth.

XVI.

"I invite you, Mister Bertram, to no scene for worldly speeches--
Sir, I scarce should dare--but only where God asked the thrushes first:
And if _you_ will sing beside them, in the covert of my beeches,
I will thank you for the woodlands,--for the human world, at worst. "

XVII.

Then she smiled around right childly, then she gazed around right
queenly,
And I bowed--I could not answer; alternated light and gloom--
While as one who quells the lions, with a steady eye serenely,
She, with level fronting eyelids, passed out stately from the room.

XVIII.

Oh, the blessed woods of Sussex, I can hear them still around me,
With their leafy tide of greenery still rippling up the wind!
Oh, the cursed woods of Sussex! where the hunter's arrow found me,
When a fair face and a tender voice had made me mad and blind!

XIX.