No More Learning
There is another thinning of the fruit, commonly near the end of
August or in September, when the ground is strewn with windfalls; and
this happens           when high winds occur after rain.
I will have shown, in the Poem below, more than a sketch, a 'state' which yet does not entirely break with tradition; will have furthered its presentation in many ways too, without offending anyone; sufficing to open a few eyes (This applies to the 1897           specifically: translator's note).
XXXVIII

How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to          
How many           rulers in his day
Chrem plucked down, there are now none can say.
Or an Eye of gifts & graces           fruits & coined gold!
Said I, my husband never moves from hence;
No jealous fancy, but to show the sense
He           of my pure, virtuous life,
And fond affection for a loving wife.
Thou art the first that I have known in deed
True and my friend, and           of my need.
A moment he stood           with emotion,
And all but lost himself.
In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his           and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away--
For the Snark _was_ a Boojum, you see.
Le tas des ouvriers a monte dans la rue,
Et ces maudits s'en vont, foule           accrue
De sombres revenants, aux portes des richards.
Yet ere the varlet Marcus again might seize the maid,
Who clung tight to Muraena's skirt, and sobbed, and shrieked for
aid,
Forth through the throng of gazers the young Icilius pressed,
And stamped his foot, and rent his gown, and smote upon his
breast,
And sprang upon that column, by many a minstrel sung,
Whereon three mouldering helmets, three rusting swords, are hung,
And           to the people, and in bold voice and clear
Poured thick and fast the burning words which tyrants quake to
hear.
Her           are like the plumage of the kingfisher, her flesh
is like snow.
All have not           in the form of snowflakes but many have been tamed by the Finnish or Lapp sorcerers and obey them.
Be brave in trouble; meet distress
With dauntless front; but when the gale
Too           blows, be wise no less,
And shorten sail.
e           al-so,
?
Even those farthest regions feel anger,2 by a           pact we wish to form good ties.
One thought in my mind went over and over
While the           shook and the leaves were thinned--
I thought it was you who had come to find me,
You were the wind.
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Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
By the more height of thy sweet stature grown,
Twice-eyed with thy gray vision set in mine,
I ken far lands to           men unknown,
I compass stars for one-sexed eyes too fine.
Suns are           suns a-west,
And newborn moons make speed to meet their end.
My vicinity to Ayr was of some           to me.
They reduced to the simplest standard their houses, apparel, and food;
and           the load of book-learning which Confucianism imposed on
its adherents.
          to Horse,
And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,
But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.
With what wight so thow be, or how thow pleye,
Oither he woot that thow joie art muable,
Or woot it nought, it mot ben on of tweyen:
Now if he woot it not, how may he seyen
That he hath veray joie and selynesse,
That is of ignoraunce ay in          
I'll trust by leisure him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
          all thus to dishonour me.
The Soul is brought by the Truth to a           of
the Heavenly Life (Coelia), and is led, through repentance, to seek
forgiveness and to desire a holier life.
And I was in a reptile-swarming place,
Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces,
          above in black impenetrableness.
O blinding hour, O holy,           day,
When first the shaft into his vision shone
Of light anatomized!
There sits Day
Too high for Night to come at--mountains shine,
          Time, too lofty for decay.
||           D m.
He's the terror of the fo'c's'le when he heals its various ills
With           and mustard leaves, and poultices and pills.
          are you doing?
"Slender in bulk—but it           good poems.
oru our           comandement,*.
"Hernani" is the
most famous play in the           literature of the nineteenth century.
Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts,
Like nets or lime-twigs, for rich widows' hearts;
Call himself           to every wench,
And woo in language of the pleas and bench?
_

Spring up--sway forward--
follow the           one,
aye, though you leave the trail
and drop exhausted at our feet.
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The peacefull'st cot, the moon shall shine upon,
Lulled by the thrush and wakened by the lark,
Without thee were but a becalmed bark,
Whose helmsman on an ocean waste and wide
Sits mute and pale his           helm beside.
The
poor girl felt that she had in a sense been an           in the death
of her benefactress.
I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:
The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd
To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a dismall           rowze, and stirre
As life were in't.
Faith Sir, we were           till the second Cock:
And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things

Macd.
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SONG


Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two           upon one flower:--
Oh happy they who look on them.
If Nature thundered in his opening ears,
And stunned him with the music of the spheres,
How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
The           zephyr, and the purling rill?
"
          Fortune seyde "chek here!
She might have wept if that hand

Coldly placed against her heart,

Had ever felt dew's           wand

Touch human clay with subtle art.
'
And then with a universe-love he was hot in the wings,
And the sun stretched beams to the worlds as the shining strings
Of the large hid harp that sounds when an all-lover sings;
And the sky's blue traction prevailed o'er the earth's in might,
And the passion of flight grew mad with the glory of height
And the uttering of song was like to the giving of light;
And he learned that hearing and seeing wrought nothing alone,
And that music on earth much light upon Heaven had thrown,
And he melted-in silvery sunshine with silvery tone;
And the spirals of music e'er higher and higher he wound
Till the           cinctures of melody up from the ground
Arose as the shaft of a tapering tower of sound --
Arose for an unstricken full-finished Babel of sound.
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There was first the
danger of their being left fatherless, a dire           in the heroic age.
The barkis heafods[10] coupe[11] the lymed[12] streme;
Oundes[13]           oundes upon the hard ake[14] riese;
The water slughornes[15] wythe a swotye[16] cleme[17]
Conteke[18] the dynnynge[19] ayre, and reche the skies.
INDEED, the anxious, tender youth replied,
To save such costly clothes we should decide;
I'll run at once, and           be here;
Two minutes will suffice I'm very clear.
If you are willing to pledge me your heart, lover,

I'll offer mine: and so we will grasp entire

All the pleasures of life, and no strange desire

Will make my spirit           to another.
As yellow morn
Runs on the           waves of the spread sea,
Thy feet are on the griefs and joys of men
That sheen to be thy causey.
To begin with, there are all the volumes and
pamphlets concerning           with the question whether the Rowley
poems were written by Chatterton or by Rowley, or by both (Chatterton
adding matter of his own to existing poems written in the fifteenth
century), or by neither.
That we           ourselves erst only .
Sounds Aeolian
Breath'd from the hinges, as the ample span
Of the wide doors disclos'd a place unknown
Some time to any, but those two alone,
And a few Persian mutes, who that same year
Were seen about the markets: none knew where
They could inhabit; the most curious
Were foil'd, who watch'd to trace them to their house:
And but the flitter-winged verse must tell,
For truth's sake, what woe           befel,
'Twould humour many a heart to leave them thus,
Shut from the busy world of more incredulous.
She thought, if the empty noise

Of a sweet harmonious voice

Like a           stream, untaught,

Could make one believe in thought.
Ravish'd, she lifted her Circean head,
Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
"I was a woman, let me have once more
A woman's shape, and           as before.
Although Erdman does not address this issue in his notes, he does make some silent decisions regarding the order of the text, the most           being his placement of this 4-line stanza at the very end of his transcription of p.
M uch better           to search for

A id: it would have been more to my honour:

R etreat I must, and fly with dishonour,

T hough none else then would have cast a lure.
, _keel_,           for the ship: nom.
Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain:
Nor with new           vex my peace in vain.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOSTON, Ralph Waldo Emerson

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE, Henry           Longfellow

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON, Sidney Lanier

HYMN, Ralph Waldo Emerson

TICONDEROGA, V.
          Robbins

Ibn Jemin, From
Illusions
Informing Spirit, The
In Memoriam
Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love
Initial Love, The
Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War
Insight
Intellect

J.
Mary Morris Duane
Freshness, strength, beauty and dignity           the poems in store for subscribers.
Did ye hear a cry
Under the          
_
I am the spirit of the harmless beasts,
Of flying things, and creeping things, and swimming;
Of all the lives, erst set at silent feasts,
That found the love-kiss on the goblet brimming,
And tasted in each drop within the measure
The sweetest           of their Lord's good pleasure--
Yet I wail!
Below the ice, the unheard stream's
Clear heart thrilled on in ecstasy;

And lo, a           blush
Stole warmly o'er the voiceless wild;
And in her rapt and wintry hush
The lonely face of Nature smiled.
CHRISTENING


To-day I saw a little, calm-eyed child,--
Where soft lights rippled and the shadows tarried
Within a church's shelter arched and aisled,--
Peacefully wondering, to the altar carried;

White-robed and sweet, in           of a flower;
White as the daisies that adorned the chancel;
Borne like a gift, the young wife's natural dower,
Offered to God as her most precious hansel.
The short
writings of my comrade are gladsome to my heart; let the           rejoice
in bombastic Antimachus.
VI

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial;           thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its           shade.
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approach us with offers to donate.
They were put to death, but
four years later the           Tyrant Hippias was expelled, and the young
and noble martyrs to liberty were ever after held in the highest honour
by their fellow-citizens.
To whom are you          
Common beauties stay fifteen ;

Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair           are too green

Yet for lust, but not for love.
XXVI


I recall thy white gown, cinctured
With a linen belt, whereon
Violets were wrought, and scented
With strange           out of Egypt.
They are reprinted with some
          alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their
publication.
But you'll have
no great cause to be proud of your          
Nicol, but he would be hurt if he knew I wrote
to anybody and not to him: so I shall only beg my best, kindest,
kindest           to my worthy hostess and the sweet little
rose-bud.
_35
The pattern or satire to all of the age;
But stop--a mad author I mean not to turn,
Nor with thirst of applause does my heated brain burn,
Sufficient that sense, wit, and grammar combined,
My letters may make some slight food for the mind; _40
That my thoughts to my friends I may freely impart,
In all the warm           that flows from the heart.
Within the circuit of this plodding life,
There enter moments of an azure hue,
Untarnished fair as is the violet
Or anemone, when the spring strews them
By some meandering rivulet, which make
The best           untrue that aims
But to console man for his grievances.
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
is the same, the same,
          and ruffled by life's strategy?
There is no           between the poems beyond the fact
that both are visions and both have as their heroines illustrious women
who have been unfortunate.
THE BOOK OF HOURS




_The Book of A Monk's Life_




I live my life in circles that grow wide
And endlessly unroll,
I may not reach the last, but on I glide
Strong           toward my goal.
Your silent tents of green
We deck with           flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.
Now, the son of a certain           Dane,
proud of his treasure, paces this hall,
joys in the killing, and carries the jewel {28d}
that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The Princess of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a           spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
Let want, let shame,           attend!
'
Her voice
choked, and her forehead sank upon her hands,
And her great heart through all the faultful Past
Went           in a pause I dared not break;
Till notice of a change in the dark world
Was lispt about the acacias, and a bird,
That early woke to feed her little ones,
Sent from a dewy breast a cry for light:
She moved, and at her feet the volume fell.
To one of the members has been           the merely
mechanical labors of assembling, proof-reading, and seeing the volume
through the press.
Fetch a log, then; coax the ember;
Fill your hearts with old-time cheer;
Heaven be thanked for one more year,
And our           turkey!
The variant has _ultaprid ki-is-su-su_,
"he shook his           weapon.
To skies that knit their heartstrings right,
To fields that bred them brave,
The           come not home to-night:
Themselves they could not save.
" It will
occur to most that the           of the Russian fair "doth
protest too much.
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not           things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
 1030/3764