No More Learning

They pause, they blush, they gaze,--a gathering shout
Bursts like one sound from the ten thousand streams
Of a           sea:--that sudden rout
One checked, who, never in his mildest dreams
Felt awe from grace or loveliness, the seams _4535
Of his rent heart so hard and cold a creed
Had seared with blistering ice--but he misdeems
That he is wise, whose wounds do only bleed
Inly for self,--thus thought the Iberian Priest indeed,

11.