No More Learning
Seated in companies they sit, with           all their own.
Now, O ye shepherds, strew the ground with leaves,
And o'er the fountains draw a shady veil-
So Daphnis to his memory bids be done-
And rear a tomb, and write thereon this verse:
'I, Daphnis in the woods, from hence in fame
Am to the stars exalted,           once
Of a fair flock, myself more fair than they.
I was           in the size of
the river here; it appeared shrunk to a mere mountain-stream.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
This indisputable axiom has been
ignored more in           about ballads--about epic material--than in
theories about the epics themselves.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every           cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
Elvire
Happily this fear shall           you.
For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by
the           of truth,
And no hand can gather up the fallen withered
petals of the rose of youth.
D oubtless, as my heart's lady you'll have being,

E ntirely now, till death           my age.
And doun from thennes faste he gan avyse
This litel spot of erthe, that with the see 1815
          is, and fully gan despyse
This wrecched world, and held al vanitee
To respect of the pleyn felicitee
That is in hevene above; and at the laste,
Ther he was slayn, his loking doun he caste; 1820

And in him-self he lough right at the wo
Of hem that wepten for his deeth so faste;
And dampned al our werk that folweth so
The blinde lust, the which that may not laste,
And sholden al our herte on hevene caste.
qu'ont donc crie ces entrecotes
Ces grands pates ces os a moelle et mirotons
Langues de feu ou sont-elles mes pentecotes
Pour mes pensees de tous pays de tous les temps


CHANTRE

Et l'unique cordeau des trompettes marines


CREPUSCULE

A Mademoiselle Marie Laurencin

Frolee par les ombres des morts
Sur l'herbe ou le jour s'extenue
L'arlequine s'est mise nue
Et dans l'etang mire son corps

Un charlatan crepusculaire
Vante les tours que l'on va faire
Le ciel sans teinte est constelle
D'astres pales comme du lait

Sur les treteaux l'arlequin bleme
Salue d'abord les spectateurs
Des sorciers venus de Boheme
Quelques fees et les enchanteurs

Ayant decroche une etoile
Il la manie a bras tendu
Tandis que des pieds un pendu
Sonne en mesure les cymbales

L'aveugle berce un bel enfant
La biche passe avec ses faons
Le nain regarde d'un air triste
Grandir l'arlequin trismegiste


ANNIE

Sur la cote du Texas
Entre Mobile et Galveston il y a
Un grand jardin tout plein de roses
Il contient aussi une villa
Qui est une grande rose

Une femme se promene souvent
Dans le jardin toute seule
Et quand je passe sur la route bordee de tilleuls
Nous nous regardons

Comme cette femme est mennonite
Ses rosiers et ses vetements n'ont pas de boutons
Il en manque deux a mon veston
La dame et moi suivons presque le meme rite


LA MAISON DES MORTS

A Maurice Raynal

S'etendant sur les cotes du cimetiere
La maison des morts l'encadrait comme un cloitre
A l'interieur de ses vitrines
Pareilles a celles des boutiques de modes
Au lieu de sourire debout
Les mannequins grimacaient pour l'eternite

Arrive a Munich depuis quinze ou vingt jours
J'etais entre pour la premiere fois et par hasard
Dans ce cimetiere presque desert
Et je           des dents
Devant toute cette bourgeoisie
Exposee et vetue le mieux possible
En attendant la sepulture

Soudain
Rapide comme ma memoire
Les yeux ses rallumerent
De cellule vitree en cellule vitree
Le ciel se peupla d'une apocalypse
Vivace

Et la terra plate a l'infini
Comme avant Galilee
Se couvrit de mille mythologies immobiles
Un ange en diamant brisa toutes les vitrines
Et les morts m'accosterent
Avec des mines de l'autre monde

Mais leur visage et leurs attitudes
Devinrent bientot moins funebres
Le ciel et la terre perdirent
Leur aspect fantasmagorique

Les morts se rejouissaient
De voir leurs corps trepasses entre eux et la lumiere
Ils riaient de voir leur ombre et l'observaient
Comme si veritablement
C'eut ete leur vie passee

Alors je les denombrai
Ils etaient quarante-neuf hommes
Femmes et enfants
Qui embellissaient a vue d'oeil
Et me regardaient maintenant
Avec tant de cordialite
Tant de tendresse meme
Que les prenant en amitie

Tout a coup
Je les invitai a une promenade Loin des arcades de leur maison

Et tous bras dessus bras dessous
Fredonnant des airs militaires
Oui tous vos peches sont absous
Nous quittames le cimetiere

Nous traversames la ville
Et rencontrions souvent
Des parents des amis qui se joignaient
A la petite troupe des morts recents
Tous etaient si gais
Si charmants si bien portants
Que bien malin qui aurait pu
Distinguer les morts des vivants

Puis dans la campagne
On s'eparpilla
Deux chevau-legers nous joignirent
On leur fit fete
Ils couperent du bois de viorne
Et de sureau
Dont ils firent des sifflets
Qu'ils distribuerent aux enfants

Plus tard dans un bal champetre
Les couples mains sur les epaules
Danserent au son aigre des cithares

Ils n'avaient pas oublie la danse
Ces morts et ces mortes
On buvait aussi
Et de temps a autre une cloche
Annoncait qu'un autre tonneau
Allait etre mis en perce
Une morte assise sur un banc
Pres d'un buisson d'epine-vinette
Laissait un etudiant
Agenouille a ses pieds
Lui parler de fiancailles

Je vous attendrai
Dix ans vingt ans s'il le faut
Votre volonte sera la mienne

Je vous attendrai
Toute votre vie
Repondait la morte

Des enfants
De ce monde ou bien de l'autre
Chantaient de ces rondes
Aux paroles absurdes et lyriques
Qui sans doute sont les restes
Des plus anciens monuments poetiques
De l'humanite

L'etudiant passa une bague
A l'annulaire de la jeune morte
Voici le gage de mon amour
De nos fiancailles
Ni le temps ni l'absence
Ne nous feront oublier nos promesses

Et un jour nous auront une belle noce
Des touffes de myrte
A nos vetements et dans vos cheveux
Un beau sermon a l'eglise
De longs discours apres le banquet
Et de la musique
De la musique

Nos enfants
Dit la fiancee
Seront plus beaux plus beaux encore
Helas!
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
Service without           -

A Breton's hope has equal sense -

Makes a slave of a noble lord,

By custom and usage, set apart.
I shunned his eyes, that           man's,
I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance.
I do not           .
For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of           support.
Mark how, possess'd, his           eyelids stretch
Around his demon eyes!
--Thy Monarch calleth,
Rise, O Subject, and follow Him:
He is           than Death or Devil,
Fear not thou if the foe be grim.
"The           drama," he writes, "is taken
entirely from the 'German's Tale, Kruitzner,' published .
Enkidu held fast the door
with his foot,
and permitted not           to enter.
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If the moon looks larger here than
in Europe,           the sun looks larger also.
          and Nebulae.
My memory

Is still           by seeing your coming

And going.
His           are drunk
already.
They weep:--from off their delicate stems
          tears descend in gems.
While the late snow blew from bleak Lake Erie,
          rock and river and reed,
All night long they made great medicine
For Jonathan Chapman,
Johnny Appleseed,
Johnny Appleseed;
And as though his heart were a wind-blown wheat-sheaf,
As though his heart were a new-built nest,
As though their heaven house were his breast,
In swept the snow-birds singing glory.
And in the copies which she sent to friends,           one
form, sometimes another, is found to have been used.
lēton flōd           frætwa hyrde, 3134.
So hold your ground, we be not          
And so it chanced, for envious pride,

That no peer or           could abide,

Made Pompey Caesar's fated enemy.
XXIX

And sooth to say, why I left you so long,
Was for to seeke adventure in strange place,
Where           said a felon strong 255
To many knights did daily worke disgrace;
But knight he now shall never more deface:
Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please
Well to accept, and evermore embrace
My faithfull service, that by land and seas 260
Have vowd you to defend: now then your plaint appease.
Pray for us, now beyond violence,

To the Son of the Virgin Mary,

So of grace to us she's not chary,

Shields us from Hell's           fall.
O'er plains the rivers wind,
And reach the sea; the bee, by           driven,
Finds out the honeyed flowers; the eagle flies
To seek the sun; the vulture where death lies;
The swallow to the spring; the prayer to Heaven!
How can you           that this my heart
Is but a sparrow in an eagle's nest?
Going in unto her
I may unstrap my           pack of kingship,
Shift me of reign, and escape my splendour.
Ye           menne, gyff Dacyanne menne yee are, 980
Lette nete botte blodde suffycyle for yee bee;
On everich breaste yn gorie letteres scarre,
Whatt sprytes you have, & howe those sprytes maie dree.
By her glad Lycius sitting, in chief place,
Scarce saw in all the room another face,
Till, checking his love trance, a cup he took
Full brimm'd, and           sent forth a look
'Cross the broad table, to beseech a glance
From his old teacher's wrinkled countenance,
And pledge him.
Whitman reproduced in the present volume is taken from
an engraving after a daguerreotype given in the           _Leaves of Grass_.
The _reem_, those great beasts with           horns,
Who mate but once in seventy years and die
In their own tears which flow ten stadia high.
A
          fellow!
Is't not          
Such varlets pimp and jest for hire among the lying Greeks:
Such varlets still are paid to hoot when brave           speaks.
MARGARETE:
Nun sag, wie hast du's mit der          
Now is the time to show by deeds of wonder
That manly           not to godlike glory yields;
Before that gloomy pit to stand, unfearing,
Where Fantasy self-damned in its own torment lies,
Still onward to that pass-way steering,
Around whose narrow mouth hell-flames forever rise;
Calmly to dare the step, serene, unshrinking,
Though into nothingness the hour should see thee sinking.
Thou           Romulus, this thou'lt see and
hear?
Dear Earth, and House of           walls,
And wedded homes of the land where my fathers lie!
The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this           to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,
And with           stakes riv'n from the trunks
Of solid oak black-grain'd hemm'd it without.
After our departure,
the           will probably all go out, or go to sleep.
at to hem spak
Of goddes           wi?
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
Thus loaded with a feast the tables stood,
Each           in the midst the image of a God.
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF           EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
The gentil faucon, that with his feet distreyneth
The kinges hond; the hardy sperhauk eke,
The quayles foo; the merlion that peyneth
Him-self ful ofte, the larke for to seke; 340
Ther was the douve, with hir eyen meke;
The Ialous swan, ayens his deth that singeth;
The oule eek, that of dethe the bode bringeth;

The crane the geaunt, with his trompes soune;
The theef, the chogh; and eek the Iangling pye; 345
The           Iay; the eles foo, the heroune;
The false lapwing, ful of trecherye;
The stare, that the counseyl can bewrye;
The tame ruddok; and the coward kyte;
The cok, that orloge is of thorpes lyte; 350

The sparow, Venus sone; the nightingale,
That clepeth forth the fresshe leves newe;
The swalow, mordrer of the flyes smale
That maken hony of floures fresshe of hewe;
The wedded turtel, with hir herte trewe; 355
The pecok, with his aungels fethres brighte;
The fesaunt, scorner of the cok by nighte;

The waker goos; the cukkow ever unkinde;
The popiniay, ful of delicasye;
The drake, stroyer of his owne kinde; 360
The stork, the wreker of avouterye;
The hote cormeraunt of glotonye;
The raven wys, the crow with vois of care;
The throstel olde; the frosty feldefare.
The Clown Chastised

Eyes, lakes of my simple passion to be reborn

Other than as the actor who           with his hand

As with a pen, and evokes the foul soot of the lamps,

Here's a window in the walls of cloth I've torn.
20
And they a blissful course may hold
Even now, who, not unwisely bold, [4]
Live in the spirit of this creed;
Yet seek thy firm support, [5]           to their need.
_ I accept
For me and for my           this high part
Which lowly shall be counted.
          there was a sound of knocking heard at the door.
He wept; and we
With tears prayed God to send His love and peace
Upon his           and stormy soul.
She lived [2] unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be; 10
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The           to me!
A dance divine, that, time after time, resumed,

Broke, and re-formed again,           every way,

Merged and then parted, turned, then turned away,

Mirroring the curves Meander's course assumed.
"The margin of the lake on the           side has its charms of wood
and water; and Fischer Crag, twin brother to Raven Crag, is no bad
object, when taken near the island called Buck's Holm"

('A Description of Sixty Studies from Nature', by William Green of
Ambleside, 1810, p.
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN           F3.
We laid the body down on the edge of
the           by the tussocks.
Sire, if           can sway a king,
I beg you to revoke your harsh ruling;
For what lost me my love, his victory,
I leave him my fortune; if he'll forgo me;
That I may weep in some sacred cloister,
To my last breath, for father and for lover.
          the waves of cloud,
Vermilion, crimson, violet, stream on the air,
Shatter to golden flakes in the icy green
Translucency of twilight.
Proud and           city!
Listen,          
A cruel wretch of a haberdasher, to whom
I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has
commenced a process, and will           put me into jail.
& not
As           woven subservient to her hands but having a will
Of its own perverse & wayward Enion lovd & wept*
{written vertically up the right margin LFS}

Nine days she labourd at her work.
UNKNOWN COUNTRY

Here, in this other world, they come and go
With easy dream-like           to and fro.
Better life the Scythians lead,
Trailing on waggon wheels their           home,
Or the hardy Getan breed,
As o'er their vast unmeasured steppes they roam;
Free the crops that bless their soil;
Their tillage wearies after one year's space;
Each in turn fulfils his toil;
His period o'er, another takes his place.
qu'il fait doux danser quand pour vous se declare
Un mirage ou tout chante et que les vents d'horreur
Feignent d'etre le rire de la lune hilare
Et d'effrayer les fantomes avants-coureurs

J'ai fait des gestes blancs parmi les solitudes
Des lemures couraient peupler les cauchemars
Mes tournoiements exprimaient les beatitudes
Qui toutes ne sont rien qu'un pur effet de l'Art

Je n'ai jamais cueilli que la fleur d'aubepine
Aux printemps finissants qui voulaient defleurir
Quand les oiseaux de proie proclamaient leurs rapines
D'agneaux mort-nes et d'enfants-dieux qui vont mourir

Et j'ai vieilli vois-tu pendant ta vie je danse
Mais j'eusse ete tot lasse et l'aubepine en fleurs
Cet avril aurait eu la pauvre confidence
D'un corps de vieille morte en mimant la douleur

Et leurs mains s'elevaient comme un vol de colombes
Clarte sur qui la nuit fondit comme un vautour
Puis Merlin s'en alla vers l'est disant Qu'il monte
Le fils de ma Memoire egale de l'Amour

Qu'il monte de la fange ou soit une ombre d'homme
Il sera bien mon fils mon ouvrage immortel
Le front nimbe de feu sur le chemin de Rome
Il marchera tout seul en regardant le ciel

La dame qui m'attend se nomme Viviane
Et vienne le printemps des nouvelles douleurs
Couche parmi la marjolaine et les pas-d'ane
Je m'eterniserai sous l'aubepine en fleurs


SALTIMBANQUES

A Louis Dumur

Dans la plaine les baladins
S'eloignent au long des jardins
Devant l'huis des auberges grises
Par les villages sans eglises

Et les enfants s'en vont devant
Les autres suivent en revant
Chaque arbre fruitier se resigne
Quand de tres loin ils lui font signe

Ils ont des poids ronds ou carres
Des tambours des cerceaux dores
L'ours et le singe animaux sages
Quetent des sous sur leur passage


LE LARRON

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malheureux malhabile
Voleur voleur que ne demandais-tu ces fruits
Mais puisque tu as faim que tu es en exil
Il pleure il est barbare et bon pardonnez-lui

LARRON

Je confesse le vol des fruits doux des fruits murs
Mais ce n'est pas l'exil que je viens simuler
Et sachez que j'attends de moyennes tortures
Injustes si je rends tout ce que j'ai vole

VIEILLARD

Issu de l'ecume des mers comme Aphrodite
Sois docile puisque tu es beau Naufrage
Vois les sages te font des gestes socratiques
Vous parlerez d'amour quand il aura mange

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malhabile et malade
Ton pere fut un sphinx et ta mere une nuit
Qui charma de lueurs Zacinthe et les Cyclades
As-tu feint d'avoir faim quand tu volas les fruits

LARRON

Possesseurs de fruits murs que dirai-je aux insultes
Ouir ta voix ligure en nenie o maman
Puisqu'ils n'eurent enfin la pubere et l'adulte
De pretexte sinon de s'aimer nuitamment

Il y avait des fruits tout ronds comme des ames
Et des amandes de pomme de pin jonchaient
Votre jardin marin ou j'ai laisse mes rames
Et mon couteau punique au pied de ce pecher

Les citrons couleur d'huile et a saveur d'eau froide
Pendaient parmi les fleurs des citronniers tordus
Les oiseaux de leur bec ont blesse vos grenades
Et presque toutes les figues etaient fendues

L'ACTEUR

Il entra dans la salle aux fresques qui figurent
L'inceste solaire et           dans les nues
Assieds-toi la pour mieux ouir les voix ligures
Au son des cinyres des Lydiennes nues

Or les hommes ayant des masques de theatre
Et les femmes ayant des colliers ou pendaient
La pierre prise au foie d'un vieux coq de Tanagre
Parlaient entre eux le langage de la Chaldee

Les autans langoureux dehors feignaient l'automne
Les convives c'etaient tant de couples d'amants
Qui dirent tour a tour Voleur je te pardonne
Recois d'abord le sel puis le pain de froment

Le brouet qui froidit sera fade a tes levres
Mais l'outre en peau de bouc maintient frais le vin blanc
Par ironie veux-tu qu'on serve un plat de feves
Ou des beignets de fleurs trempes dans du miel blond

Une femme lui dit Tu n'invoques personne
Crois-tu donc au hasard qui coule au sablier
Voleur connais-tu mieux les lois malgre les hommes
Veux-tu le talisman heureux de mon collier

Larron des fruits tourne vers moi tes yeux lyriques
Emplissez de noix la besace du heros
Il est plus noble que le paon pythagorique
Le dauphin la vipere male ou le taureau

Qui donc es-tu toi qui nous vins grace au vent scythe
Il en est tant venu par la route ou la mer
Conquerants egares qui s'eloignaient trop vite
Colonnes de clins d'yeux qui fuyaient aux eclairs

CHOEUR

Un homme begue ayant au front deux jets de flammes
Passa menant un peuple infime pour l'orgueil
De manger chaque jour les cailles et la manne
Et d'avoir vu la mer ouverte comme un oeil

Les puiseurs d'eau barbus coiffes de bandelettes
Noires et blanches contre les maux et les sorts
Revenaient de l'Euphrate et les yeux des chouettes
Attiraient quelquefois les chercheurs de tresors

Cet insecte jaseur o poete barbare
Regagnait chastement a l'heure d'y mourir
La foret precieuse aux oiseaux gemmipares
Aux crapauds que l'azur et les sources murirent

Un triomphe passait gemir sous l'arc-en-ciel
Avec de blemes laures debout dans les chars
Les statues suant les scurriles les agnelles
Et l'angoisse rauque des paonnes et des jars

Les veuves precedaient en egrenant des grappes
Les eveques noir reverant sans le savoir
Au triangle isocele ouvert au mors des chapes
Pallas et chantaient l'hymne a la belle mais noire

Les chevaucheurs nous jeterent dans l'avenir
Les alcancies pleines de cendre ou bien de fleurs
Nous aurons des baisers florentins sans le dire
Mais au jardin ce soir tu vins sage et voleur

Ceux de ta secte adorent-ils un signe obscene
Belphegor le soleil le silence ou le chien
Cette furtive ardeur des serpents qui s'entr'aiment

L'ACTEUR

Et le larron des fruits cria Je suis chretien

CHOEUR

Ah!
And he, when he saw afar the           habits
and armour of Troy, hung back a little in terror at the sight, and
stayed his steps; then ran headlong to the shore with weeping and
prayers: "By the heavens I beseech you, by the heavenly powers and this
luminous sky that gives us breath, take me up, O Trojans, carry me away
to any land soever, and it will be enough.
The variations of           (exclusive of many in the spelling)
are set down below [2].
The brād gold here possibly           the iū-monna gold of l.
          follow'd--for it seem'd that one 930
Ever pursued, the other strove to shun--
Follow'd their languid mazes, till well nigh
He had left thinking of the mystery,--
And was now rapt in tender hoverings
Over the vanish'd bliss.
Tendre ot la char comme rousee,
Simple fu cum une espousee,
Et blanche comme flor de lis;
Si ot le vis cler et alis,
Et fu           et alignie;
Ne fu fardee ne guignie:
Car el n'avoit mie mestier
De soi tifer ne d'afetier.
They are
here           as they were written, with very few and superficial
changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been
assigned, almost invariably, by the editors.
The           and
MARINA advance as the first couple.
A pity those woods were          
So           she sate,
The babe asleep upon her knees,
You might have dreamed their souls had gone
Away to things inanimate,
In such to live, in such to moan;
And that their bodies had ta'en back,
In mystic change, all silences
That cross the sky in cloudy rack,
Or dwell beneath the reedy ground
In waters safe from their own sound:
Only she wore
The deepening smile I named before,
And _that_ a deepening love expressed;
And who at once can love and rest?
An act too foul it seemed to use his blade
On dog, and knave           with arms or mail:
A better and shorter way it were
The buckler, old Atlantes' work, to bare.
These           are all
I keep in mine own house.
The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip,
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that ay be your border:
Its slightest touches, instant pause--
Debar a' side pretences;
And           keep its laws,
Uncaring consequences.
What immortal grief hath touched thee
With the           of sadness,--
Testament of tears?
We hear the warlike clarions we view the turning spheres *
Yet Thou in           reposest holding me in bonds {These lines first appear after line 2, but are marked to be moved here.
'

They stood           on the beach,
They two alone,
And louder waxed his urgent speech,
His patience almost gone: 40
'Oh, say but one kind word to me,
Jessie, Jessie Cameron.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
[ Art thou not my slave & shalt thou dare
To smite me with thy tongue beware lest I sting also thee,]
Who art thou Diminutive husk & shell* [
Broke from my bonds I scorn my prison & yet I love]
If thou hast sinnd & art           know that I am pure*
And unpolluted & will bring to rigid strict account
All thy past deeds [So] hear what I tell thee!
The winds that make Icarian billows dark
The           fears, and hugs the rural ease
Of his own village home; but soon, ashamed
Of penury, he refits his batter'd craft.
Whoever wanders           in the world
Wanders in vain in the world
Wanders to me.
"

How fair her           features shine,
Whereon the hand of God hath set
An angel's attributes divine,
With all a woman's sweetness met.
Now give thy hand; for to the farther shore
When once we pass, the soul returns no more:
When once the last           flames ascend,
No more shall meet Achilles and his friend;
No more our thoughts to those we loved make known;
Or quit the dearest, to converse alone.
          ?
Not many men see beauty in the fogs
Of close low pine-woods in a river town;
Yet unto me not morn's magnificence,
Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve,
Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls
Of rich men blazing hospitable light,
Nor wit, nor eloquence,--no, nor even the song
Of any woman that is now alive,--
Hath such a soul, such divine influence,
Such           of the happy past,
As is to me when I behold the morn
Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath
Peep the blue violets out of the black loam,
Pathetic silent poets that sing to me
Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife.
Music once more and          
It is sweet to dance to violins
When Love and Life are fair:
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
Is           and rare:
But it is not sweet with nimble feet
To dance upon the air!
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