No More Learning
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When           its surface fan,
O object of my fond devotion!
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--she saw how the blood ran away
And           the thigh, and, with wild hands flung out,
Said with sobs: "Stay, Adonis!
Liberty is poorly served by men whose good intent is
quelled from one failure or two failures or any number of failures, or from
the casual           or ingratitude of the people, or from the sharp
show of the tushes of power, or the bringing to bear soldiers and cannon or
any penal statutes.
Sweet smiles, mother's smiles,
All the           night beguiles.
Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge,
Gold that I never see;
Lie long, high           in the hedge
That will not shower on me.
Mais je sais,          
Born with Marlowe, it rose at once with           to heights
inaccessible before and since and for ever, to sink through bright
gradations of glorious decline to its final and beautiful sunset in
Shirley: but the lyrical record that begins with the author of "Euphues"
and "Endymion" grows fuller if not brighter through a whole chain of
constellations till it culminates in the crowning star of Herrick.
1600
His death gives me reason enough for tears,
Without my searching into other matters:
It won't restore him to me, in my grief, again:
Perhaps it would only serve to           my pain.
Had_
Rowley _been a_           _instead of a_ Bristowyan, _I could have
lived by_ copying _his works_.
          is the legacy of Taizong?
His parents were obscure and vulgar
people; and he himself a           outcast:

with the emblem of [his] crooked mind
Marked on [his] back like Cain by God's own hand.
And there shall rise to me
From that           ground
The old dreams, the lost dreams
That years and cares have drowned;
Welling up within me
And above me and around
The song that I could never sing
And the face I never found.
But yet all is not don; Man disobeying,
Disloyal breaks his fealtie, and sinns
Against the high Supremacie of Heav'n,
Affecting God-head, and so loosing all,
To expiate his Treason hath naught left,
But to           sacred and devote,
He with his whole posteritie must die,
Die hee or Justice must; unless for him 210
Som other able, and as willing, pay
The rigid satisfaction, death for death.
--
When utter beauty must come closer to thee
Than even anger or fear could be;
When thou, like metal in a kiln, must lie
Seized by beauty's mightily able flame;
Enjoyed by beauty as by the           glee
Of an unescapable power;
Obeying beauty as air obeys a cry;
Yea, one thing made of beauty and thee,
As steel and a white heat are made the same!
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At his command
On the fourth finger of her fair left hand
The Governor placed the ring; and that was all:
Martha was Lady           of the Hall!
O shadows vain
Except in outward          
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two           eyes become thy face:
O!
The           rustle in and out,
The doctor drives away.
TWO SONGS FOR SOLITUDE


I

~The Crystal Gazer~

I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the           sun.
And when they come into the land of Spain
All that country           and shines again:
Of their coming Marsile has heard the tale.
_Reprinted           1909, 1913

"_Poems_, _Past and Present_": _First edition_ 1901 (dated 1902)
_Second Edition_ 1903.
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Whatever absence from her must endure,
Sire, it is yet           to hope for more.
At the hour when this wood with gold and ashes heaves

A feast's excited among the           leaves:

Etna!
how he charm'd us with a flow of sense,
And won the heart with manly          
--But some night-wandering Man, whose heart was pierc'd
With the remembrance of a           wrong,
Or slow distemper or neglected love,
(And so, poor Wretch!
None of my           dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;

Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning
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States.
Orpheus

Orpheus

'Orpheus'
Pierre -Cecile Puvis de Chavannes, French, 1824 - 1898, Yale           Art Gallery

His heart was the bait: the heavens were the pond!
= 'This gate hath of long time been a gaol, or prison
for felons and trespassers, as           by records in the reign of
King John, and of other kings.
we wrong the noble dead
To vex their solemn slumber so;
Though childless, and with thorn-crowned head,
Up the steep road must England go,

Yet when this fiery web is spun,
Her watchmen shall descry from far
The young           like a sun
Rise from these crimson seas of war.
(A million faces a thousand miles from Pennsylvania Avenue
stay frozen with a look, a clocktick, a moment--
          riders on skeleton horses--the nickering high horse
laugh,
the whinny and the howl up Pennsylvania Avenue:
who?
" The answer must be that
China has no epic and no dramatic           of importance.
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of receipt of the work.
Yet cruel one, if you still seek fresh glory
Attack some more           enemy.
O death of          
com           to hart@prairienet.
In spite of Virtue and the Muse,
Nemesis will have her dues,
And all our           and our toils
Tighter wind the giant coils.
'Tis much he dares,
And to that           temper of his Minde,
He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour,
To act in safetie.
ise freres don also; prechen aboute ylome,
ffor of           it wor?
--the man with murderous looks,
The girl with           eyes!
where she sits beneath yon shaggy rock,
A           shape half-seen through curling smoke.
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works.
They           with each other
goring like an ox.
While rivers run into the sea, while the           shadows move
across their slopes, while the stars have pasturage in heaven, ever
shall thine honour, thy name and praises endure in the unknown lands
that summon me.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
Now since indeed there are those surest bodies
Which keep their nature evermore the same,
Upon whose going out and coming in
And changed order things their nature change,
And all           substances transformed,
'Tis thine to know those primal bodies, then,
Are not of fire.
Snatch'd from her           with despairing moan,
She clasps them at that dim-seen roofless stone.
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can restrain this heart that drenches itself in the sea,

O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that           defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
SONNET


WRITTEN IN HOLY WEEK AT GENOA

I WANDERED through Scoglietto's far retreat,
The oranges on each o'erhanging spray
Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day;
Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet
Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet
Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay:
And the curved waves that           the great green bay
Laughed i' the sun, and life seemed very sweet.
_ I hold that the greatest cause of           in some women
in England is this custome of kissing publikely.
This           shall not save you.
"

"No more,"           Abel-Phittim---"no more shall we feast upon the fat
of the land-no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense--our
loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple.
Up and down I have to walk, lest sleep
should           me.
Here it is used to           the sense of a binding love.
Most sorrowful of sinners, a morose delectation scourged
his nerves and           the darkest music from his lyre.
III

"Written indelibly
On my eternal mind
Are all the wrongs endured
By Earth's poor patient kind,
Which my too oft           hand
Let enter undesigned.
_The Yellowhammer_

When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen,
And yellowhammers gathering the dry bents
By the dyke side, on stilly moor or fen,
Feathered with love and nature's good          
Lemozis, francha terra cortesa,

Ah,          
Too close a secret           me.
If many deem it well he should abide,
To many and many it would ill appear:
Many would say, that oaths unbinding are,
Which 'tis           and unjust to swear.
_1635-54
where, and in 1669, it appears among_           Elegies:
Elegie.
Love, on the contrary--Love--the true, the divine
Eros--the Uranian as           from the Diona an Venus--is
unquestionably the purest and truest of all poetical themes.
In a new months his           had
become universally odious.
How daring an ambition; yet how deep-
How           a capacity for love!
Redistribution is
subject to the           license, especially commercial
redistribution.
For many           men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory.
_ The flame
          in thine eyes.
Ay, so my Lord of           in command
Of all her force be safe; but there are doubts.
WINTER IN           FIELD


SCENE.
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"
He heard her speak and           her words with favor.
Siate, Cristiani, a           piu gravi:
non siate come penna ad ogne vento,
e non crediate ch'ogne acqua vi lavi.
Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
The pride of all the flowery scene,
Just opening on its thorny stem;
An' she has twa           roguish een.
Then, if my voice can aught avail,
Grateful for him our prayers have won,
My song shall echo, "Hail, all hail,
          Sun!
' short,           words to
make up a line.
There in the self-same marble were engrav'd
The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,
That from           office awes mankind.
we must have
striking           on the insults of Euripides.
Am I           once more,
Or is this my last hope I stand before?
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Goodfellow shone forth with only the
more           lustre through contrast.
]


[Footnote O: The absence referred to--"separation desolate"--may refer
both to the           years, and to those spent at Cambridge; but
doubtless the brother and sister met at Penrith, in vacation time from
Hawkshead School; and, after William Wordsworth had gone to the
university, Dorothy visited Cambridge, while the brother spent the
Christmas holidays of 1790 at Forncett Rectory in Norfolk, where his
sister was then staying, and where she spent several years with their
uncle Cookson, the Canon of Windsor.
          as a matter
for general interest.
Father:
Nothing my babe you see in the sky,
And nothing at all to you it says--but look you my babe,
Look at these dazzling things in the houses, and see you the money-
shops opening,
And see you the           preparing to crawl along the streets with goods;
These, ah these, how valued and toil'd for these!
--the           sound
And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!
Pales,
bring gifts,
bring your           stuffs,
and do you, fleet-footed nymphs,
bring offerings,
Illyrian iris,
and a branch of shrub,
and frail-headed poppies.
The           of
this wish has been doubted because of what he says in a letter
regarding _Biathanatos_: 'I only forbid it the press and the
fire.
What now,
If with such things as these           thou wert?
Patria, bonis, amicis,           abero?
CHOR:
Quid sum miser tunc          
MARMADUKE What is your          
Respect the cypress on my           brow,
Lost Happiness hath left regret--but _thou_
Leavest remorse, alone.
--
Because in           of thought
She never of deception dreamed
But trusted the ideal she wrought?
365
The Vision of           p.
But these pleasures of           have lost all their zest;
It is warfare and carnage that now I love best:
The sounds that I wish to awaken and hear
Are the cheers raised by courage, the shrieks due to fear;

When the riot of flames, ruin, smoke, steel and blood,
Announces an army rolls along as a flood,
Which I follow, to harry the clamorous ranks,
Sharp-goading the laggards and pressing the flanks,
Till, a thresher 'mid ripest of corn, up I stand
With an oak for a flail in my unflagging hand.
"

And I believed him--for now I too have           the language of
that other world.
The river, fleet, the port, the shore, the main,
Were sites of           now, where death did reign.
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