No More Learning

? STEFAN GEORGE

? By the same Author
THE SHADOWS OF SILENCE AND
THE SONGS OF YESTERDAY
THE GRAVE OF EROS AND THE
BOOK OF MOURNFUL MELODIES
WITH DREAMS FROM THE EAST
BAUDELAIRE--THE FLOWERS OF EVIL
In preparation
THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT

? STEFAN GEORGE
SELECTION FROM HIS WORKS
? ? ? "? *
'. >> ? - ?
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH
BY
CYRIL SCOTT
LONDON
ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET
MCMX

? To
FRIEDRICH GUNDOLF AND
ERNST GUNDOLF; THE
FRIENDS OF THE FRIEND

? FOREWORD
IN the opinions of some of the deepest literary
thinkers of Germany, Stefan George finds a place as
the greatest poet of the day. Apart from his depth
and beauty, he has created a new form, endowed
verse with new colour and sound, and greatly ex-
tended the possibilities of expression in the German
language. Through his personality; his pathos and
ethology he has furthermore engendered a new ideal;
a synthesis of Christian and Pagan feeling which in
this form has not existed before.
FOREWORD
IN the opinions of some of the deepest literary
thinkers of Germany, Stefan George finds a place as
the greatest poet of the day. Apart from his depth
and beauty, he has created a new form, endowed
verse with new colour and sound, and greatly ex-
tended the possibilities of expression in the German
language. Through his personality; his pathos and
ethology he has furthermore engendered a new ideal;
a synthesis of Christian and Pagan feeling which in
this form has not existed before. That the English-
speaking public may gain at any rate some faint idea
of his genius, it has been my joyous task to translate
the following small selection of his works.
421202

?
? INDEX OF FIRST LINES
I may not lean across the wicket, turning 11
As on the languorous settle 12
Silvery swallows I saw flying 13
Through the blossoms softly simmer 17
Were it much to implore thee 18
Since I be down-cast 19
See my child I'm going 20
This is just the kind of morning 21
Through the casement a noble-child saw 22
Come in the death-foreboded park, to view 25
'Neath trembling tree-tops to and fro we wander 26
Let us surround the silent pool 27
To-day we will not cross the garden-railing 27
The blue-toned campions and the blood-red poppies . . . 28
Doth still before thee rise the beauteous image 29
There laughs in the heightening year, soft 30
The blissful meadows beckoned. To the stile 31
Night of grief and gloom }? 31
I know you step within mine house 32
'Tis not wise until the latest hour 32
The hill where o'er we wander lies in shadow 33
Needs must thou be upon the wastelands yearning . . . 34
Seek not to know which song or saying yields 37
As long as tinted haze the mountain covered 38
Ye speak of raptures that are void and friendless 39

? Look at this azure hour 40
I stood in summer waiting.